Harry & the Pirate III: Norrington's Choice
by geekmama
Summary: There are Special Plans afoot for the Commodore. Revenge? Well...not precisely.
1. Justice

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's, except for the original characters.

**Harry and the Pirate: _Norrington's Choice_**

_Whereas His Sacred Majesty by the Grace of God, of England, Scotland, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, Etc. Hath an Open and Declared War against France and Spain, their Vassals and Subjects. And Forasmuch as you have made Application unto Me for License to Arm, Furnish and Equip the ship Black Pearl in Warlike manner, against Her Majesties said Enemies, I do accordingly Permit and Allow the same; And, Reposing special Trust and Confidence in your Loyalty, Courage and good Conduct, Do by these Presents, by Virtue of the Powers and Authorities contained in His Majesties Royal Commission to Me granted, Empower and Commission you, Jack Sparrow, to be Captain or Commander of the said ship Black Pearl: Hereby Authorizing you in and with the said ship and Company to her belonging, to War, Fight, Take, Kill, Suppress and Destroy, any Pirates, Privateers, or other the Subjects and Vassals of France, or Spain, the Declared Enemies of the Crown of England, in what Place soever you shall happen to meet them._

**I. Justice**

Against all logic, the _Vaillant_had not surrendered. Jack had run up the Jolly Roger and the Union Jack straight away, and had fired a warning shot across the ship's bow as well, but the bloody fool of a captain on the French ship paid no heed, though he had to know there was no chance of escape. The _Vaillant_ moved into firing position, and the Captain of the _Black Pearl_ had no choice but to engage. There was a violent if mercifully brief exchange of cannon fire. The _Vaillant_'s forward mast splintered and fell, and the ship was badly hit near the waterline. The _Black Pearl_, on the other hand, sustained little damage, to Jack's relief: there was a bit of a hole gaping, but it was high up and could be repaired while they were underway.

As the _Pearl_ closed with its prey, Jack gave the order to board, sending the French crew scurrying this way and that in their panic. Grappling hooks were thrown, and gangplanks were quickly set. The pirates swarmed over to the crippled ship, a ragtag, roaring mob, armed to the teeth but mindful of Jack's orders to intimidate rather than kill or even injure, if possible. They were quite accustomed to these oddly unpiratical guidelines by now, and were actually becoming quite proficient at looking like crazed killers, all the while keeping their baser instincts in check: if they were unable to do so they wouldn't last long under Captain Sparrow's command, and he was fast building a reputation for leading extremely profitable ventures. In spite of the ten percent that went to the Crown in return for his Letter of Marque, Sparrow and his crew were building up tidy little fortunes.

Unfortunately, the Captain of the _Vaillant_ had declined to cooperate. To the pirates' consternation, the French crew refused to give quarter, resulting in many injuries among both crews, and some unnecessary deaths among the Frenchies. Finally Jack fought his way to the enemy captain and disarmed him.

"Wilcox! Dobbs!" Jack shouted. Instantly the men were there, and took hold of the big, hawk-faced commander of the _Vaillant_. Jack put the tip of his sword against the man's neck and pressed in slowly, the skin giving way and a drop of blood sliding down the shining length. The Frenchman shuddered and strained against the hands that held him. "Call them off. _Now!_" Jack said, his eyes blazing cold fire.

The Frenchman complied, almost choking over it, but then he recovered a little and shouted imperative orders to his hapless crew. They laid down their weapons with what looked like relief to most of the pirates.

"Bloody stupid fool," Jack said, looking around the now quiet deck. Quiet except for the disturbing moans and cries of the injured. "Tie his hands, you two. O'Brien, get the crew busy lowering the boats off this wreck. God's teeth, she's already listing. The rest of you get the swag, and make it quick if you don't want to be swimming."

The crew scurried to obey, realizing from the slight tilt of the deck that Jack was right: the _Vaillant_ was doomed.

Jack went down to the captain's cabin to gather what he could. The cabin wasn't large, and Jack had gone through a great many of the cupboards and drawers already when Wilkes came in, a look of shock on his face.

"What is it?" demanded Jack

"You'll need to come see, sir. It's a coupla women and three little 'uns!"

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Jack and followed Wilkes out. As he followed Wilkes forward to the tiny guest cabins he muttered furious imprecations that boded ill for the French captain. They pounded down two flights of stairs and Montez, who had been guarding the door of the cabin pushed it open as Jack approached. He stood in the doorway and stared—and was stared back at in turn by four sets of bright blue eyes, and a set of brown. The brown ones belonged to a rather tall, plainly dressed, middle-aged woman, her motherly face just now contorted with anger and fear.

"Don't you dare touch us, you devil! I'll kill you with my bare hands!" she told Jack, her voice shaking.

"Maria, no!" warned the second woman, from where she lay in the narrow berth.

Jack's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and he exclaimed, "You're all bloody English! What the devil are you doing here?"  He looked at the slender, fair-haired lady laying in the berth, cheeks pale, eyes deeply shadowed, covered to her chin with blankets against a chill only she could feel: the woman was quite obviously ill! And huddled close beside her were the children, all fair-haired and blue-eyed like their mother, a sturdy boy of about twelve, his face a picture of defiance, and his two sisters, one a little younger than the boy, mouth agape at Jack's appearance, the other barely more than a baby, her face streaked with tears and her thumb firmly in her mouth.

Suppressing the urge to spout a string of colorful curses, Jack's eyes narrowed and lit once more on the tall woman, who stiffened. "Who are you? The Nurse?" he demanded.

"Yes."

There was no time to chitchat, or to assuage the finer feelings of this dogged guardian. He addressed the Nurse in a clipped growl. "The ship's sinking and there's no time for arguing. You'll do exactly as I say or I'll bloody well have you tied up and thrown into my brig, where you'll be of no use to your charges at all, savvy?"

The Nurse struggled with this, then said tightly: "Very well."

"Good," said Jack, a little less vehemently. "Take the little ones up—my fellows will help you cross over to the _Pearl_. I'll follow you up with your lady."

The Nurse and her lady exchanged a fearful glance, but then the lady nodded, a look of resignation in her eyes. "Go Maria. Take care of them," she said in a quavering voice.

"Yes, Lady Margaret. Come children."

The two little girls came to her outstretched hands, but the boy hung back, his blue eyes flashing at Jack. "I don't want you touching my mother! Keep away from her, you…you blackguard!" He lifted his chin at the pirate and took his mother's hand when she held it out to him.

"No, Charles! You must go with Maria!" his mother implored weakly. "Please!"

Jack frowned, his sympathy for the boy warring with the need to get them off the sinking ship with all possible speed. "I'll not touch her more than needed lad, but she don't look as though she can carry herself, and you can't do it. Go with your Nurse, now."

"I don't care if you kill me!" Charles said dramatically, squeezing his mother's hand. "I'll not leave her!"

Jack laughed shortly. "Kill you?  I'll have Wilkes pick you up and bloody carry you! Or you can walk over on your own. Quick! What's it to be?"

Young Charles frowned, glancing at Wilkes, who was a couple of inches taller than the pirate captain and considerably heftier and looked like he would have no trouble at all toting a half-grown boy wherever his captain wished. Charles then looked at Jack again. The pirate's eyes were unrelenting, though somehow not unkind. The boy swallowed hard, and said, "Don't hurt her!" He let go of his mother's hand, but not before he felt her squeeze his comfortingly.

"Good lad," said Jack, approvingly. "Wilkes, take Master Charles and the ladies up and see that they get over to the _Pearl_ safely. Put 'em in my cabin for now—I don't want 'em on deck until we're through here."

"Aye, Captain," said Wilkes, and ushered his charges out of the cabin without more ado, although the boy gave a backward glance and frowned in apprehension as he saw the captain of the _Black Pearl_ move toward his prostrate mother. 

Lady Margaret steeled herself and struggled to sit up. Jack took her forearms in his hands and helped her. She bent her head as her vision briefly dimmed, but then lifted her face to peer into his. "I think I can walk, if you will just help me to stand, Captain."

"Right, then," he said, pulling aside the blankets. She was dressed in a gown of dove gray, trimmed in black—mourning perhaps?--and it had obviously been donned in a rush, with a button undone here, a bow untied there. She was very slender in spite of having born three children: too slender, for the dress she wore was too loosely fitted for fashion. She'd lost weight recently, then. "Swing your legs over…now on the count of three: one, two, three!" He half lifted her to her feet, and let her hang onto his arms for a minute as she swayed dizzily, waiting for her vision to clear again. Then she straightened.

"There! I think I can manage now. Thank you." She gave a relieved smile.

"We'll see," he said shortly. "I'll help you up the stairs."

He supported her up the two flights to the main deck, but by the time they emerged into the sunlight she was pale and breathing heavily, perspiration gathering on her forehead and above her lip. She winced at the bright sunlight, spots swimming before her eyes again.

"That's enough," said Jack, and swung her up into his arms, disturbed at how thin she was. She made no objection, but tried to make it easier for him by putting her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek against his shoulder, but he thought this had more to do with a vain attempt to hide from the stares of the ships' crews than with her illness. 

Jack walked the length of the deck, then carried Lady Margaret across the gangplank to the _Black Pearl_ and handed her off to the waiting Gibbs. "Put her in my cabin," Jack said.

"Aye," said Gibbs, "I've already put Miss Maria and the young 'uns there. That bloody Frenchie should be hung for stupidity, bringing on a fight with women and children on board."

"He'll wish he was before I'm done," Jack said grimly, and turned and bounded back over the gangplank. Reaching the deck of the _Vaillant _he said, "Blake and Stratford, get forward and clean out the guest cabins—the ladies' and childrens' things are in there. Bowers!"

Bowers, an enormous, coarse-featured fellow with a cauliflower ear, lumbered up with an "Aye, Captain?"

"Feel up to practicing some of the skills you learned in the Navy, Bowers?"

Bowers, who had been a bosun's mate in a former life, quirked an eyebrow. "Got someone 'oo needs floggin' then, Cap?" he asked with some enthusiasm

"The Captain of this bloody vessel," Jack nodded. "He's got a cat in his cabin that looks like it's seen some use, though not on _his_ back I'll wager. We'll see how he takes to it, eh? Off to the quarterdeck now—I'll join you shortly."

"Aye, aye, Cap!" Bowers said, cheerfully. His peculiar skills had not been of use since he had joined the crew of the _Black Pearl_ after it had become necessary to curtail his naval career due to an unfortunate incident with an officer (who had sustained a broken jaw). He had assured Jack from the start that he would be glad to oblige should the _Pearl's_ Captain ever have need of those skills, but Jack had told him that more creative, forms of punishment were generally used on the _Black Pearl_ when necessary. It seemed however, in this case, the Captain was willing to make an exception. Bowers ambled back to the quarterdeck, whistling.

Jack walked purposefully to the captain's cabin and grabbed the bag of charts, instruments, and books that he'd been packing when Wilkes had come in. Then he picked up a wicked-looking cat o' nine tails, which lay in the corner of the cabin. He grimaced, looking at it, realizing it must have been used fairly recently. "Bloody bastard," Jack thought, anger swelling anew.

Jack made his way to the quarterdeck of the listing ship. Most of the French crewmembers were already in longboats, ready to be set adrift, but many of the _Pearl's_ crew were still hurriedly removing swag from the hold of the _Vaillant_. However, everyone in sight stopped to watch as Jack approached the French Captain, his eyes as cold as death.

The Frenchman was hefted to his feet by his guards. Jack walked up to him, dropped the bag and gave the man a vicious backhanded swipe across the jaw, snapping the man's head back in the process. 

"You stupid fool!" snarled Jack. "Men have died today because of your idiocy, and you'd women and children here as well!"

"I do not lower myself to surrender to pirate scum!" the man said, cold pride on his face, though he eyed the cat in Jack's hand with misgiving. 

"I should skewer you where you stand," Jack said in a deadly voice, "but I don't kill in cold blood an' your not worthy of an honorable engagement. Bowers!" The big man stepped heavily forward, standing next to Jack, and smiled down at the French captain, who blanched. Jack handed the hideous whip to Bowers. "A dozen strokes of the cat. Then throw 'im overboard—his crew can pick up the remains, if they care to. And if I ever see your ugly face again," Jack hissed at the man, "I'll bloody cut your guts out, scruples or no!"

The terrified but still defiant Frenchman was summarily stripped of his coat, vest and shirt, and tied up by his wrists. He roared, "You will pay for this, Sparrow! I shall be revenged on you! I swear it!" But then Bowers began, and the French captain was rendered incapable of coherent speech. The next couple of minutes were punctuated by the dreadful sounds of the whip meeting flesh, and the accompanying shrieks of the Frenchman. Jack looked on, outwardly impassive, though he fought down nausea inwardly: he had been flogged with a cat himself once, and that once had been more than enough for a lifetime. Even as angry as he was, the pain and fear of the man was a palpable thing to him, but he let Bowers carry on until the sentence was complete.

"Cut him down," Jack said at last. Bowers tossed the cat aside, and complied, and he and a couple of the other men took hold of the Frenchman, dragged him to the side of the ship and tossed him over. The man made no sound as he fell, hitting the water twenty feet below with a big splash, but bobbed up again, gasping and howling as the salt water turned his bloody back to fire. Jack watched until he saw that the man's crewmembers were going to haul him into one of the longboats, then turned away.

Most of the _Pearl's_ crew had not stopped to watch the gruesome performance, but had carried on with removing the _Vaillant_'s cargo. Jack, pleased at this, grabbed up the bag of things he'd lifted from the captain's cabin and headed to the gangplank. "Finish up, you dogs! She's not got much longer. All back to the Pearl as soon as may be!" he roared at them. He crossed the gangplank, striding across the narrow way as though it were firm ground instead of narrow boards suspended twenty feet over choppy water. He reached the _Pearl_ and turned toward his cabin—and then saw the boy, Charles, standing at the rail, his face white. 

Swearing under his breath, he walked over to the boy. "What in blazes are you doing up here?" he demanded. "How long have you been there? Did you see?"

The boy nodded slowly, his eyes full of horror.

"Bloody hell," Jack said, suddenly weary. "Did you hear everything?"

"Do you mean…his…" the boy said in a constricted voice.

Jack reached out. The boy shank away from him, but Jack took his arm in a firm grasp anyway and turned him to the railing. "You see him down there?"

Charles looked down at the longboat, where the French Captain lay weeping, surrounded by several of his crew, who looked none too pleased to have him amongst them.

Jack said, "He'll likely live, which is more than five or six of his crew can say. If he'd used his head they'd still be alive, there'd have been few injuries, and you and your mother and sisters would be on your way to wherever you were headed. He'd only have been out some cargo. D'you understand what I'm sayin'?"

Charles looked at him. "But he was the captain!"

"Aye, he was. And a captain's responsible for the lives of everyone aboard his ship. He can't hold pride over the safety of his crew."

Charles' forehead furrowed. "He…he should have surrendered," the boy said slowly, understanding.

"He should have surrendered," Jack agreed. "Now get down to my cabin, but don't tell the ladies everything you saw. No need to distress them with too much detail, eh?"

"No," agreed Charles, with feeling, then added bitterly, but with a little trepidation at his own boldness, "Bad enough that we're prisoners on a pirate ship."

But Jack only laughed. "Aye. Bad enough. But maybe that won't be as bad as you're fearing, lad. Go on now. You can take this bag along with you to the cabin for me, if ye please." He handed the boy the bag and turned away to supervise the last of the boarding party's return to the _Pearl_.


	2. Guests

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's, except for the original characters.

**Harry and the Pirate: _Norrington's Choice_ **

**II. Guests**

The _Vaillant_ had slipped under the waves, and its surviving crewmembers and captain were last seen rowing off in the direction of Cuba, which Jack figured they would reach in a couple of days. The _Black Pearl_ was again underway. Jack had changed their heading, however.

"Goin' to St. Claire, Captain?" Gibbs asked. "You sure it's wise?"

"It's three days closer than Tortuga, and five closer than Port Royal. And if that woman needs a doctor, even St. Claire might be too far."

"But Jack: what about your lady? Do you think it right to expose her to illness? She's six months along!"

"Lady Margaret can stay in my cabin until she's recovered. I won't let Harry near her, of course."

"Let her? When she hears you've got an English lady an' her kids with you she'll be all over 'em—you know what she is!"

Jack frowned over this, knowing Gibbs was right. "Bloody hell. Take the wheel. I'm goin' below."

He saw Owens coming up from the hold as he descended the steps of the quarterdeck. "Owens! Come here, lad.'

Owens trotted across the deck and followed Jack down the companionway steps. "What's toward, Captain?" the Cabin Boy asked. He had filled out some, after a few months of decent food, and had almost lost the uncertain, fearful look that had lurked at the back of his eyes when he'd first joined the crew.

"We've some guests, lad, and I want you to help keep 'em entertained."

"Me, sir?" said Owens in surprise.

"Aye," Jack said, and, to Owens's surprise, the captain knocked on the door to his own cabin.

"Come in," called the firm voice of the nurse, Maria.

Jack opened the door, gently pushed Owens before him, then followed the boy in. Lady Margaret was laying on top of Jack's bed, propped up with pillows and covered with a blanket, Maria standing beside her looking grimly protective, and the three children were at the table, the boy getting up at the sight of the visitors, the older girl remaining seated in a carved chair with the little one in her lap. 

Jack closed the door against the slight draft that drifted down the passage from the open deck. "In case you've not been told, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, and you're guests here on the _Black Pearl_. Have they not brought you food and drink, then?" he asked.

"They have not," said Maria, rather coldly. _'Guests', indeed!_

"If you please, Captain Sparrow, we should be glad of some water," Lady Margaret said, her mild tone an admonition to the Nurse.

"Of course," said Jack, "And maybe some tea, or lemonade?"

"Lemonade!" exclaimed the older girl, then blushed as Jack turned his gaze on her. "W-we like lemonade," she managed to stammer. He was so…odd looking…so exotic. The cold look he had worn when he'd come to their cabin on the _Vaillant_ was gone, and the combination of enormous deep-brown eyes (made even larger looking by the black paint outlining them) and a smile of devastating charm quite took her nine-year-old breath away.

Lady Margaret was not unaffected, either, and Maria stiffened even more, determined not to be cozened by this criminal.

"You like lemonade, eh?" Jack said. He nodded at Owens, who was standing beside him staring at the three finely dressed blond headed children. "This is my Cabin Boy, Michael Owens. Owens, this is Lady Margaret, Nurse Maria, Master Charles, and…?"

"Suzanna and Julietta Holliday," supplied Lady Margaret.

"Miss Holliday and Miss Julietta to you, boy," Jack told Owens. He watched with approval as Owens made a brief bow. "Take Master Charles with you to see Cook, Owens. Tell Cook I want to see 'im down here with water, lemonade, and tea as soon as may be. Then you can show Master Charles about the ship, some—just stay out of the hold till everything's stowed away, aye?"

"Aye, Captain!"

Charles, who had been studying the dark-haired Cabin Boy with interest, turned to his mother. She hesitated, looking a little worriedly at the pirate, then at her eager son, again.

Jack said, "I know you've no particular reason to trust me, Lady Holliday, but I promise you the boy'll come to no harm while the _Pearl's_ under my command." Then, after glancing at the two boys, he amended the promise, saying, "Not through the actions of my crew or myself, at any rate."

But Lady Margaret, thinking of the pirate captain's kindness to her and her family thus far, and of what her son had told her of the events that had transpired aboard the _Vaillant _after they'd been taken safely aboard the _Black Pearl_, was inclined to accept his word. She said to her son, "Very well, my dear, but do not get into mischief." She smiled a little as his face lit up.

"Come on, Master Charles!" said Owens with a grin.

Jack opened the door for them. The boys walked out sedately enough, but broke into a trot as he shut the door, and they could hear them pounding up the companionway stairs.

Jack chuckled, and said to the ladies: "Owens'll think he's died an' gone to heaven, havin' a lad his own age on the ship. I reckon I'd better talk to 'em after a bit and lay down some rules. They're like to be into mischief otherwise."

"Master Charles is always well behaved," stated Maria, incensed that this pirate dared to impugn her darling. 

But Lady Margaret disagreed. "No, Captain, you are correct. Please do talk to them! Charles is well behaved when he is in the bosom of his family, but…well, you remember last Christmas, Maria? When his cousins came to stay?"

Maria frowned and sighed. "I remember. But surely it was those Beauchamp cousins who led him astray!"

"Now, Maria!" said Lady Margaret, "you know as well as I do Charles was as much to blame as the other boys."

"Uncle Hugh caned them!" Suzanna said to Jack, shuddering elaborately.

"Did he?" Jack said, politely interested.

"Suzanna, it was not necessary to mention that," her mother chided gently.

But Jack said to the little girl: "Well, Miss, lads that don't follow orders on the Pearl don't get caned, they get to clean the bilges, or polish all the brightwork, and so I'll tell 'em both. But it's likely Owens'll be a help. He already knows the way things work here."

Jack walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. "With your permission, lady, I'll have a seat and talk with you a bit. There are a few things I need to know."

"Yes, Captain, by all means. Maria, do sit down too!"

Maria consented to perch on the edge of the chair next to the bed, although she still eyed the pirate with suspicion.

Jack sat down. "I apologize in advance for what may seem an impertinent question, but can you tell me about this illness of yours? I've a good reason for wanting to know."

"I understand perfectly, Captain," Lady Margaret said, putting a hand on Maria's arm, for the nurse had stiffened alarmingly. "You will think me a very poor creature, I'm sure, but it is nothing more than sea sickness! I had never been on a ship before we boarded the _Vaillant_, and I'm afraid I am very ill-suited to a life at sea."

"You've been seasick all the way from England?" Jack asked, quite appalled. He had never been seasick himself—the motion of a ship had always seemed more natural to him than the stillness of solid land—but he'd seen plenty of folk suffering from it over the years and knew how very debilitating it could be.

"I'm afraid so. The choppy seas don't affect me as they did at first, but the swells!" She shuddered a little, and drew the blanket closer about her. "I have been a bit better since we reached the Caribbean."

"Aye. Not too rough this time of year, fortunately. We've a good cook on board. I'll introduce you when he brings the lemonade. He'll likely be able to put something together that will set easy on you."

"Thank you, Captain Sparrow," said Lady Margaret.

"Lady Margaret requires the most careful nursing," Maria said pointedly. "And quiet calm."

"A bit difficult to achieve with three little 'uns underfoot, I imagine," Jack said, smiling at the little girls again. "We'll see if we can't keep 'em occupied for you, at least some of the time. Where were you headed?"

Lady Margaret said: "To New Orleans. I have a cousin there, and she wrote to me after…after my husband had passed away a few months ago, suggesting I pay her a visit. She felt the climate might be beneficial to me."

"New Orleans, eh? Well, I daresay we can take you there, or arrange passage at least. But since we're so close we'll be dropping anchor at St. Claire Island first: it's where the _Pearl_ makes berth, now that…here, what's this?" Two small hands had just been placed on his knee. He looked down and smiled at the little girl who had squirmed away from her older sister, approached Jack, and was now peering up at him with inquisitive blue eyes.

"Up!" she said, raising her arms.

"Julietta!" exclaimed the Nurse in horrified accents, but Lady Margaret put a mildly restraining hand on her arm again.

"Oh, like that is it, Miss?" Jack laughed, taking her under her arms and setting her on his knee. "The ladies just can't resist ol' Jack, an' that's the truth."

Little Suzanna, looking on enviously, agreed completely, as did her mother, who smiled crookedly at the sight of her small daughter reaching up to grab at the Captain's beaded hair. Only Maria huffed, pressing her lips together.

"Easy now, lass," said Jack, disentangling the little fingers and capturing Julietta's hands in his brown, callused ones. "I'll get you some beads of yer own to play with if you'll stop pullin' my hair." He looked up at Lady Margaret and grinned ruefully. "I suppose that's what I'm lookin' forward to in another few months: my lady wife is havin' our first soon."

"You're married then?" asked Lady Margaret in some surprise.

"I am that. It's possible you know her, too, London society bein' a pretty close group when all's said and done. You're of an age, I think. She was formerly Lady Henrietta Fanshawe, Dowager Duchess of Wyndham."

Lady Margaret gasped. "Harry Fanshawe! You are married to Harry? Why, we were at school together! She was one of my dearest friends! We made our debut in the same year!"

"Is that right?" Jack said, watching Julietta play with the rings on his fingers. "Well, that settles it then. We'll have to make a stop at St. Claire: my lady'll likely have a bit of a snit if I don't bring you for a visit!"

"Oh, I would dearly love to see her again! But…" Lady Margaret broke off, a little color coming into her pale cheeks.

"But?" prompted Jack, looking up at her. He grinned. "I suppose you want to know how the high-toned bosom-beau of yer school days ended up married to a privateer Captain."

"Well, yes, actually," said Lady Margaret, looking more than a little embarrassed. A thought occurred. "You are a privateer, then? I had quite thought…that is, your…appearance…led me to think…"

"Pirate?" Jack supplied. "Well, I was until a few months ago, but I applied for Letters of Marque right before I married. Lady Henrietta was unwilling to allow me to continue givin' the Navy a run for it's money. And it made her brother, Governor Swann a bit more agreeable to the union, since _privateer_ sounds somewhat more respectable than _pirate_."

Lady Margaret chuckled. "I don't doubt that weighed with him: he was always very straight-laced—disapproved of Harry amazingly when we were at school. She was ever in mischief, of course."

"Oh, of course," he agreed, his eyes alight thinking of his darling as a young girl, full of innocent (and not so innocent) fun in an effort to stave off the boredom of being trapped in a boarding school.

"She hasn't changed, then?" Lady Margaret smiled.

"Not much, probably. But you can judge for yourself. We'll reach St. Claire in three days, if the wind holds."

"Oh, how lovely it will be to step on land again," the lady sighed.

There was a knock at the door of the cabin. "Come in!" Jack called. He set Miss Julietta on the floor and stood up.

The door opened and Anatole came in, followed by two henchmen carrying trays loaded with the beverages Jack had requested.

"Anatole! I want you to meet Lady Margaret Holliday, Miss Suzanne Holliday, Miss Julietta, and Nurse Maria."

Anatole bowed. "It is a great pleasure, ladies."

"You'll have a bit of a challenge in Lady Margaret here, Anatole. She's had a touch of _le mal de mer. _More than a touch, actually."

"_Voyons_!" exclaimed Anatole, "You will tell me what I can prepare for you, madame, and also what the so beautiful little ones enjoy. We raided a Spanish town recently, and there are eggs, and even two milk goats! Perhaps a light, but nourishing broth, followed by a small dish of _crème anglaise_?"

"Why, that sounds quite lovely! I almost feel I could enjoy eating something of that nature. How kind you are!"

"I am entirely at your service, Madame Marguerite," said Anatole, spreading his hands.

Jack chuckled. "Well, you'd better be, considering what I pay you, you old devil."

Anatole turned pained eyes to the pirate. "But _mon Capitaine_! I am worth every _sou_, no?"

"Aye, you are." Jack said to Lady Margaret, "I thank God daily we took the ship he was on—he would've been wasted on the Governor of Martinique. I'll be leavin' you in his capable hands now, ladies. I've yet to pay a visit to my injured men. You can have my cabin for your accommodations until we get to St. Claire, though I'll need to get in here during the day some. I had your things brought over from the _Vaillant_, as well, and we'll be bringin' 'em as soon as we get things sorted out a bit."

"Thank you, Captain Sparrow," said Lady Margaret. "I believe I'm beginning to see how it is that my friend is married to you! You are very…unexpected."

Jack laughed. "As is the lady herself. I'll take that as a compliment, though. I'll join you for dinner later, if you don't mind, and we can talk a bit more. _Adieu_, ladies!"  


	3. All Asea

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's, except for the original characters.

**Harry and the Pirate: _Norrington's Choice_**

**III. All Asea**

When Anatole had finished consulting with all four ladies on culinary matters and had taken himself off, Maria turned to her mistress and said in a low voice, "Lady Margaret, how can you let yourself be taken in by _that man_! He is a criminal! He attacked and sank…"

"A French ship, Maria. We are at war again, if you will remember, and he is a privateer, not a pirate, in spite of appearances. Unfortunate that the peace was ended after we had secured passage aboard the _Vaillant_, but so it was, as you well know!"

"Yes," acknowledged the Nurse. "But really, madam! You are far too trusting!"

Lady Margaret frowned thoughtfully. "You may be right. And yet…there is something about him. I would not trust him with my purse, perhaps, but…well… you saw how good he was with Julietta! He is a very odd character, to be sure! "

"'Odd' grossly understates the case," said Maria firmly.

Her mistress smiled a little, but said seriously, "Well, I forbid you to be rude to him. It could only be detrimental to our welfare while we are in his power. But how strange and wonderful that he should be married to Harry! Henrietta Swann as she was, you know. I confess I am very much looking forward to seeing her again. Her company was the greatest solace to me when we were in school. I was very homesick when I first went, and felt as though I might have quite sunk into a decline if Harry had not taken me under her wing! Not that she didn't lead me into some scrapes. But she was also very proficient at talking her way out of them, and took the blame herself if she could not. Which," added Lady Margaret, with a little smile, "was only just, as I recall." 

"She sounds as questionable a character as her husband!" remarked the Nurse.

"Yes. But really, she was the sweetest girl! Mischievous, but so very kind, too. But you will see for yourself in a few days!"

*************

"She fancies you, you know."

Jack cocked a dark eyebrow and glanced at the young imp standing next to him on the quarterdeck.

Charles Holliday met his gaze, mischief on his face. "My sister. Suzanna."

"Aye," said Jack, his eyes narrowing, "I do know, but it ain't the part of a gentleman to betray a lady's confidence in such matters."

"Oh," said Charles, slightly abashed. Then he straightened. "Well, perhaps I don't wish to be a gentleman. Maybe I'll be a pirate when I'm grown."

"Maybe you will, but that don't preclude the possibility of you bein' a gentleman as well. Savvy?"

"Oh," said Charles again. "Are you both? I mean…were you. Of course you're a privateer now. But before?"

Jack laughed shortly. "You think that piece of paper changes anything? I'm no different now than I was four months ago, save the British Navy stayin' off me tail. And when they make peace with France and Spain again…."

"You'll be a pirate again?"

"Aye. Likely enough. Who knows what lies 'round the corner, eh? But to return to the subject at hand, y'don't need to play the cad just 'cause you're a Gentleman of Fortune 'stead of a Gentleman of Leisure. An' it would seem to me it's especially unwise when dealin' with your sister. Not that I've got one. But I know a few—me own wife, for instance." Jack gave a slight snort of grim laughter, thinking of the thorny relationship that existed between Harry and her brother, Weatherby Swann, Governor of Port Royal.

Charles, interested, commented, "You've no sisters? Do you have brothers, then? I always wanted a brother. Sisters are the very de-…" The boy hesitated, and flushed slightly at Jack's sharp look. "Well… they're a bother."

Jack nodded. "Most females are, one way or another. Although they've a few redeeming qualities as well, of course." Jack caught sight of Owens emerging from belowdecks, and observed, "There's your partner in crime." He watched his Cabin Boy run across the deck toward them.

"Owens!" Charles called, happily.

"Holliday!" Owens shouted back. He was grinning as he took the steps two at a time. Gaining the quarterdeck, he stopped, gave Jack a brief salute and said, "Chores're done, Captain!"

"I suppose you'll want to be off then," Jack said, and gave the boys a warning glance. "Remember: stay off the ratlines, and out of the armory. And _ask_ Anatole nice before you start gobbling his pastries, eh?"

"Aren't you going to teach us to use the swords?" Charles asked, his blue eyes pleading.

"Only if your mum permits. An' don't go plaguing her about it. We'll bring it up again after lunch, but if she says no you'll take it with a good grace. She don't need a rascally whelp nippin' at her heels just when she's just startin' to perk up a bit."

"She is, isn't she?" Charles said, brightening. "I wish Anatole had been on the _Vaillant_. Maybe she wouldn't have been so ill."

"Well, it's the weather, as much as the food," Jack said. "An' that's been a mixed blessing, as it were. But we'll make St. Claire day after tomorrow, likely enough."

"Come on, Holliday! Let's go _ask_ Anatole for some breakfast! I'm near to starved." Owens gave Jack a brief, smiling salute, and then the two boys skittered off. Jack watched them go, a somewhat bemused smile on his own face.

It was hard to believe how much the presence of three small beings had altered the whole atmosphere of the _Black Pearl_. The girls were kept in his cabin with their mother and their nurse, much of the time, but young Charles, accompanied by Owens, pretty much had the run of the ship, and the mischief the two had managed to get into during the first few days had had Jack cursing the calm weather that had developed to impede their progress toward St. Claire.

That first day, Jack had no more left his cabin to the ladies and gone back on deck when an annoyed Gibbs had come to tell him there was an addition to the casualty list: the boys had been fooling with a pile of weapons that had been used in the raid and Charles had managed to cut a finger of his left hand "near clean off!" With a groan and an oath of exasperation, Jack had descended to the area that was used as an infirmary when occasion demanded, and found the two boys gaping in fascinated horror at the procedures being visited on the injured members of the _Pearl's_ boarding party. Gibbs had, fortunately, been exaggerating, but the cut on the Charles's finger was bad enough to require careful bandaging. Tending to it himself, Jack told the boy he was damned lucky he'd not need it stitched. Charles had not been much dampened by this, and Jack had taken a grim satisfaction in the boy's yelps of startled pain when he'd washed the cut out with rum, although he had to admit the boy was stoic enough during the remainder of the ordeal. Owens had been much more dismayed by the incident and Jack's scolding than young Holliday, and had promised his Captain they'd be more careful from now on.

Owens's definition of "more careful" had not seemed to include keeping his new friend from experiencing the joys of climbing the ratlines, at which he himself was now very proficient. The next morning, Jack had been precipitately summoned from the cargo hold at a blood-curdling shriek, which, on investigation, turned out to have been loosed from the lips of the nurse, Maria, who had come on deck to allow Suzanna and Julietta to "take the air". Suzanna, looking around for her brother, had spotted him clear up in the crow's nest with Owens! Charles waved merrily to her, the neat bandage on his hand white in the morning sunlight. Jack, after an unsuccessful attempt to ease Maria's distress, sent two of his more agile crew members scurrying up to see that Charles got down safely. Lunch that day had been a trial, what with Maria's accusing glare across the table, Lady Margaret's gentle scolding, and Charles Holliday's grumping remarks about being kept "wrapped in cotton wool". Jack had finally shut the boy up by threatening to confine him to quarters for the duration of the voyage if he didn't keep a civil tongue in his head and mind his elders. This had been an idle threat, for Jack felt that Lady Margaret would be driven to bedlam with too much exposure to her high-spirited son. It was quite obvious the boy needed schooling, and Jack was beginning to see why 'Uncle Hugh' had been moved to thrash him. However, in Jack's experience such measures often did more harm than good, and he presently took the boys off to visit with Cotton, whose parrot and expertise in fancy knotwork kept the two busy for the rest of the afternoon.

The remainder of that second day had passed peacefully, if one discounted the little incident that evening during which Jack discovered Owens and all three Holliday children hidden close by, watching the Pearl's crew drinking, and regaling each other with songs and stories that were quite inappropriate for young ears. Maria and Lady Margaret had both fallen asleep early, it seemed. Jack had returned the Hollidays to his cabin, warning the three not to repeat anything they'd heard to their mother or nurse. Charles and Suzanna had nodded sagely, but Miss Julietta was not of an age to understand the concept of discretion. Over the next few days, therefore, Maria and Lady Margaret were occasionally startled at the 'warm' phrases coming from the mouth of their little darling, and Maria took to looking daggers at Jack whenever their paths crossed.

The woman was so forbidding, in fact, that it came as quite a shock to realize, a couple of days later, that Gibbs was actually making up to her! When Jack quizzed him on his suddenly improved appearance, the man admitted that he found the nurse to be a 'fine figure of a woman' and that he'd actually recruited the help of Jack's valet, Alphonse, in getting himself 'cleaned up a bit'. Jack, who had never seen Gibbs take any but the most fleeting interest in the fairer sex, was astounded, and made the mistake of saying so. Gibbs was affronted! And the reason for this was clear: astonishing as it seemed, Maria in some measure, appeared to return his regard. She had taken to conversing with Gibbs whenever she brought the little girls topside for their 'airing', and Charles confided to Jack he'd heard his nurse tell Lady Margaret how "intelligent and personable" a man was Mister Gibbs.

So, what with unusually mild weather, unexpected romance, and the younger set kicking up larks right and left, the voyage home was proving…interesting.

"Captain!" It was O'Brien trotting up the steps, a grin on his face.

"Aye?"

"We've found something you'll like to see in one of those big crates we brought over from the _Vaillant_. Gibbs wants you to come down."

Jack made his way down into the hold, which was near to bursting with swag again. Just as well they were headed back to St. Claire, and thence to Tortuga. He spotted Gibbs standing next to a crate that had been laid flat in the narrow aisle and opened, the lid propped against an assortment of smaller crates and trunks and packing material scattered about it. As Jack approached, a boxlike shape was revealed within the open crate, painted white but adorned with a vibrantly colorful picture—a landscape with graceful nymphs caught dancing to the unheard music of a roguish-looking Pan playing his pipes.

Gibbs looked up. "It's a musical instrument of some kind, Jack!"

"A harpsichord!" Jack crouched down to run a finger along the beautifully painted wood. "My mother had one, but not one this fine."

"It'll fetch a good price on the market," said Gibbs, "unless you want to keep it."

Jack nodded and looked up at Gibbs. "Harry told us she plays, didn't she? Lord, she'll like this better than any finery I could give her! Have you found any music packed away for it?" 

"Not yet, but we'll be looking through a lot of these crates this afternoon, since we've so much time on our hands. Wish the wind would pick up some."

"As do I. We'll be another two or three days getting to St. Claire at this rate. Well, perhaps I'll be appointed fencing master this afternoon. Help keep me mind off Harry."

"Young Charles still pesterin' you, eh?" laughed Gibbs. "He wants keepin' in order, that one does."

"He does, that. Your _friend_, Miss Maria, still thinks him an innocent babe."

"She does have a soft spot where the little lad's concerned," Gibbs admitted. "I've learned to skirt around that subject with her."

"I can imagine. Too bad his father died, just when he was most needed. Right poor planning. With a mother as soft as Lady Margaret and a nurse who's blind to his faults, the lad needs a father."

"The boy seems quite taken with _you_," Gibbs grinned.

Jack grimaced. "Well I ain't available to fill the post, praise be." He stood up. "Pack that up again carefully—they're delicate instruments, harpsichords. Go out of tune every time the weather changes, if I recall."

"Have to hire a harpsichord tuner for Harry, next!" Gibbs grinned. 

"Maybe Alphonse can do it. Seems to be able to do most everything else."

"He's a wonder, that man. Between him an' Anatole, I have a newfound regard for the Frenchies. Temperamental, though. Thought Anatole was going to go after young Charles with his big carving knife yesterday. Maria was pretty upset to see it."

Jack gave a short laugh. "Thinks the boy's bein' starved, I suppose, and has every right to be snabbling sweets that took hours to make, all without a by-your-leave. And, what's worse, gettin' Owens to help 'im."

Gibbs shook his head, and smiled. "Owens has a streak o' mischief in 'im, too, seemingly. Just needed a little push to bring it out."

"Aye. I'm glad to see it, though, considering. He's come a long way since Santo Christobal."

"That he has," Gibbs agreed, thinking of the pale, dirty, underfed boy Michael Owens had been then, standing on the starlit beach, his eyes shining up at them when they'd told him they'd take him aboard the _Black Pearl_. "Still thinkin' of sendin' him off to school?"

Jack shrugged. "Maybe. He's not too taken with the idea, but what boy would be, after what he's been through: worked half to death and beaten black and blue on the whim of a Spanish harpy, then livin' the free an' easy life of a pirate. But he'd do well, if we could find the right sort of place for 'im."

"Maybe a place with young Charles, eh?" suggested Gibbs.

Jack nodded. "The thought crossed my mind. I'm going to speak with Harry about it, in fact." He sighed. "Wish the wind would pick up. Now that we're headed that way I'm getting' right anxious to see her."  

  



	4. Reunions

**Disclaimer:** Disney's, mostly. Except for Harry, of course.

**Harry & the Pirate: _Norrington's Choice  
_****IV. Reunions**

Mrs. Henrietta Sparrow, or Lady Harry as she was still known to all and sundry, was extremely anxious to be reunited with her dear, daft, adorable scoundrel of a husband, too. After a six-week honeymoon, culminating in a surprisingly pleasant visit from her brother, Governor Swann, who had come out to St. Claire with the official pardon and Letter of Marque as promised, Harry had waved a determinedly cheery goodbye to the _Black Pearl_, knowing that, however happy Jack seemed close by her side, the pirate in him needed to be off and ranging abroad on the high seas, feeling the wind in his face and looking for adventure. She, too, had things to which she wanted to attend on the island, and Jack, being solicitous to the point of what she felt was absurdity over her "delicate condition", had increasingly seemed a hindrance to these schemes. They had agreed that time apart would be good for both of them.

However, late on the second night after Jack's departure, Rachel had been padding down the hall past her mistress's bedroom and had caught the sound of muffled sobs issuing from within. The housekeeper had knocked lightly but had entered without more hesitation, for before he'd taken his leave Jack had directed Rachel most straitly to take care of Harry, whether the lady wished it or no.

Harry, hearing her enter, had struggled to sit up in the big bed, snuffling and scrubbing tears from her eyes, and tried to smile. "Oh! N-no, Rachel! Indeed, I am quite all right!" But, seeing the sympathy in the woman's eyes as she'd approached the bed, Harry gave it up and again burst into agonized sobs.

"Lady Harry! No!" Rachel said, sitting beside her and pulling her against her ample bosom, rocking and petting her.

Harry clung to her. "Rachel! Oh God! What am I going to do? He's only been gone two d-days!"

"I know, honey. I know."

After a while, Harry's sobs had lessened, and Rachel said to her, "Wouldn't be natural if you didn't miss him, honey, but he'll be back and 'til he is you need to take care of yourself and that baby, and keep busy! Now what would he think about you carrying on like this?"

"He'd be s-sorry he'd married m-me!" Harry said, "And I d-don't blame him. We should never have d-done it!"

Rachel set her mistress a little away from her at this and gave her a slight shake. "No he wouldn't! He's missing you just as much as you miss him, and, well, this'd just break his heart. But you can't hold him like that! You know you can't!"

"No," said Harry, morosely. She took the handkerchief Rachel was offering her and wiped her face and blew her nose. "What a horrible watering pot I've become. I never used to cry." She looked at Rachel. "Do you really think he misses me? Out on the sea like that?"

"What do you think? You were fine 'til you came to bed, weren't you? And then you started remembering."

Harry smiled a little, and nodded. "And…he's sleeping in the cabin. Where we first…um…" Harry looked up at Rachel with a sly look and a blush.

"Now don't you go telling me about that," Rachel said, laughter in her voice. "Might be too much for me. It's already a warm night." She fanned herself in an exaggerated fashion.

Harry laughed. 

"That's better," Rachel smiled. "Now you come with me and we'll wash your face and get you a fresh nightgown. You'll get a good night's sleep, and come morning things'll look brighter. There's plenty to keep you busy, even taking it a little easier like you should. And before you know it he'll be home again, pestering you to recline on that chaise by the window or to set yourself on the veranda with a cool drink and some knitting."

"You're right," Harry said, feeling more cheerful now. "If I'm going to get any of my projects done I need to do it while he's gone! He seems to think I'll break!"

Rachel smiled, but did not reply to this. It was all too close to the truth. One night a few weeks after the bridal pair had returned to St. Claire, Harry had gone off to bed early and Jack had stayed up late in the library, talking and telling outlandish stories with Elizabeth and Will Turner, and drinking far more excellent St. Claire rum than was good for him. Elizabeth had later confided to Rachel the dismaying turn the conversation had taken when Jack had neared the bottom of the bottle and had told them of a very minor but humorous incident from his childhood in which his mother had been mentioned. On concluding it he had suddenly grown rather quiet. 

"Y'know," he said, finally, voice soft and slurred with liquor, "th'thinguvid is… I'm bloody scared." He had nodded at his friends, blearily, satisfied at their suitably shocked expressions. "Tha's right: Captain Jack Sparrow. Terror o' th'Spanish Main. Scared. An' it's _your fault_!" He pointed an unsteady, accusing finger at Elizabeth.

"Jack!" she'd said, as much shaken by the admission as the accusation.

"She's _your_ Aunt!" he said, belligerently. "Would never've known 'er 'fit weren't fer you! Never've…fallen in love with 'er." He thought about this for a long moment, while Elizabeth and Will exchanged startled glances. But then he looked up again and said, "An' if she dies…if she dies…how the…how can I…" His voice trailed off painfully.

"Jack," Will said, in his gentle, reasonable manner, "Harry's not going to die!"

"She might!" he said, almost angrily. "M'mother did. I was twelve. Remember it like yesterday. Maybe thirteen. Anyway…she died. Baby, too. Said it was a boy. Me brother." He gave a bark of bitter laughter and fell silent.

Elizabeth had got up and now sat next to him on the sofa, and took his hand in both of hers. "Jack, my Aunt will be fine! She will!" She had not known what else to say. She believed it to be true, though there was the possibility that fate would make a liar of her. But this could not, under these circumstances, be admitted.

"Promise?" Jack asked, a pleading tone seeping into his voice. He looked at her, his dark gaze blurred with drink, and worry, and old pain.

"I promise!" said Elizabeth, firmly, willing her strength and confidence to be communicated to him somehow.

And it had seemed to work. He'd nodded. "All right, then." His eyes lost focus, briefly. "Think I'll go to bed." 

They'd guided him up the stairs and into the bedroom. Will had helped him to undress, while Elizabeth had explained to her sleepily startled Aunt that 'Uncle Jack' had taken a bit too much rum but would be fine in the morning.

"Of course he will!" Harry had murmured, drawing him close as he had climbed in beside her and wrapped himself around her. She had sighed, content, and they had both fallen asleep, oblivious to covers being tucked around them and candles snuffed.

And he _had_ been fine, to all outward appearances. But Rachel understood very well why a solemn expression sometimes came over his face when he watched Harry, and the seriousness underlying his request that she take care of her flighty mistress while he was gone.

The _Black Pearl_ had returned after six weeks, laden with spoils, and the reunion of master and mistress had been ecstatically joyous. They had retired to their bedroom with almost indecent haste and had not emerged until the following evening, looking so happy and relaxed that they had become the subject of much fondly lewd banter during the outdoor dinner party Rachel and her underlings had arranged to welcome the _Black Pearl's_ crew back to St. Claire. The two had paid little heed to the teasing, and, during most of their subsequent days together had added fuel to the fire by taking themselves off to explore the island on horseback, packing along appropriate paraphernalia and foodstuffs to enhance these al fresco interludes. Harry's skin had taken on a golden glow, but only Rachel (and Jack) knew how completely it covered her from head to toe. And she glowed from within, too, blissfully happy with her marriage and her impending motherhood.

Jack took reluctant leave of Harry again, after little more than a week, sailing on to dispose of the swag and thence back out to sea. But he took with him, in his mind's eye, the vision of the wife he was growing to love more with every passing day, and the awareness that she loved him too, in equal measure. It was wonderful, and terrifying, and not something he had ever expected to experience himself, or even really believed could exist in this world, and it came as something of a revelation to him that the stories were true after all.

*************

The Black Pearl was sighted heading toward the South Bay nearly two hours before she finally dropped anchor, the wind and weather being uncooperative in the extreme. Harry, dressed in her lightest rose silk and lace, was forbidden by Rachel to go down to the bay to wait, for the heat and humidity were really quite dreadful. Jack's impatient bride reluctantly stayed in the shade of the back veranda until the Pearl was finally drawing into the bay, helped along by the employment of its sweeps. Then, followed by a maid in white linen holding a parasol, another with a jug of cool water and glasses, and a footman bearing a wooden lawn chair, the lady hurried off down the path to the beach and paced the sand while the sweeps were brought in, the sails struck, and a boat lowered away. She was joined by Judah, a crooked smile on his handsome face, Miriam Lightfoot and her daughter Lilian, who had been staying with Harry for a few days, and a number of the plantation's other residents, for during the weeks of The Honeymoon some of the Black Pearl's crew had elected to stay on the island with Jack and Harry, and they had endeared themselves in many ways to St. Claire's people.

Harry was nearly bouncing with excitement as the first longboat approached the shore. She had eyes only for her husband, who seemed of a similar mind, an irrepressible grin on his face. As soon as the boat nosed the sand he jumped out and laughed as Harry ran into the shallow water to meet him, heedless of expensive silks.

After a long, unabashed kiss, the feel of her in his arms like a benediction, Jack said, "You're ruining that dress, you know!"

"Well, at least I remembered to take off my shoes this time!" she returned, her voice husky with emotion.

He kissed her again.

Finally he set her from him a little, and said, "We're going to shock our guest. Come look who I've brought you!"

He moved aside, and she looked at the other passengers in the boat for the first time. A fair lady, who had a small girl seated next to her. The little one's wide blue gaze took in Harry curiously, thumb in mouth, an interesting string of beads clutched in the same hand. But the lady beamed.

"Hullo, Harry!"

Harry gasped. "Maggie?" She abandoned Jack and waded over to the side of the boat, astonishment writ large on her countenance.

Lady Margaret laughed and stood up, moving to embrace her friend. "No one's called me that in years and years!" she said, tears stinging her eyes. "How good it is to hear it again!"

Harry finally released her and demanded, "But Maggie! How is it you are here?" She watched her friend exchange a quizzical glance with Jack, and said, "My God! He did not take your ship!"

"Sank it, actually," Jack said, coming to the side of the boat himself.

"Jack! No!" said Harry, very much shocked.

"Aye. Move out of the way so I can carry Lady Margaret to shore. She don't want to wet her skirts, unlike some hoydens I could name."

Harry obeyed, saying, "But how on earth did it come about? Was it an English ship? Why did you sink her? Was anyone hurt…or killed?"

"It was a French ship," said Jack. He shook a finger at Julietta and said, eyes narrowed, "You stay right there, Miss. Savvy? I'll be back for you in a moment."

Julietta nodded, wide-eyed, and watched her 'Captain Jack' carry Mama to the white sand beach. The strange, brown-haired lady followed them, her wet, pink skirts draped over one arm, slim golden legs exposed to view. Then, while Mama was introduced to the people on the shore, Captain Jack came back to fetch her own small self. She grabbed on and clung to him, allowing her beads to slip down to the crook of her arm. As he carried her to shore she could see, over his shoulder, the second boat approaching, which contained Mr. Gibbs, Maria, her brother and sister and the boy Michael Owens.

Jack carried the little girl to shore, but did not put her down immediately. Lady Margaret turned and smiled at the two.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet my youngest daughter, Julietta."

Harry turned and smiled at the sight of her husband holding the pretty little mite. Julietta had turned to stare at Harry, putting her thumb back in her mouth and keeping her other chubby arm firmly around Jack's neck . "I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Julietta," said Harry, adding, "Those are very beautiful beads! Wherever did you get them?"

Julietta took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to answer, "Captain Jack!", but then turned and hid her face against her hero's neck as Harry and her mother laughed in delight at the little voice.

There were splashing sounds, and Harry looked up to see the two boys, one dark and one as fair as her friend coming toward them. She held out her arms. "Owens! My love!" 

The boy grinned, his cheeks reddening at the endearment, but he embraced Harry without hesitation. 

Harry gave him a hard hug and then set him a little away, her hands on his arms, and looked him over. "I declare, you have grown at least an inch! Still the best Cabin Boy in the Caribbean?"

This last was addressed to Jack, who nodded. "He'll do." He winked at Owens, when the boy turned to him, and Owens smiled again. "Here, lad, you take Miss Julietta and keep an eye on her while I help the other ladies." He handed the little girl off to Owens. She went with alacrity, for she was nearly as fond of Owens as she was of Jack.

"There's my Ju!" Owens grinned, bouncing her a bit.

"Aye. You can have her," said Charles, tweaking one of the little girl's ringlets. Julietta took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to stick her tongue out at her brother, as she'd seen her older sister do numerous times.  

"Harry, this is my son, Charles," said Lady Margaret, disapproval in her voice.

However, Charles turned and made a neat bow to Harry, saying, "How do you do, Ma'am?" so politely that his mother's annoyance was assuaged.

Harry's eyes twinkled. "Very well, I thank you", she said, laughter in her voice. "I am so pleased to meet you!" She looked out at Jack, lifting Charles's older sister from the boat, and noted how furiously the girl was blushing as he carried her to shore and set her on the sand. "Well," said Harry to Jack, "you _have_ had an interesting voyage, haven't you?"

"You might say that," Jack smiled. "I'll tell you up at the house. It's bloody hot today. _You_ need to get into the shade! Mary!" He motioned to the maid with the parasol, who approached. "Stick close to your mistress and keep her in the shade. She'll end up with a complexion like mine if she's not careful!"

Owens, who had been introducing his new friends to Lillian Lightfoot and her mother, now turned and asked, "Can we go ahead up to the house, Captain?"

"Aye, but leave Miss Julietta with us. You'll end up misplacing her, like as not. Her legs are a bit short to keep up with the likes of you."

Miss Julietta went to her mother willingly, but set up an unseemly howl when she saw the four children run off up the path to Island House. But then Maria was there, shadowed by a beaming Gibbs, and Julietta quieted as her nurse took her up and held her while being introduced to Lady Harry and her friends.

"I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am," said Maria cooly, nodding at Harry in lieu of a curtsey, ostensibly due to the squirming bundle of little girl she held.

Harry lifted a brow slightly, but smiled and said in her friendly fashion, "And I yours, Miss Maria."  

Satisfied that this introduction had gone as well as could be expected, Jack turned to Judah. "Anamaria's taking care of some things on the ship for me, and packing up. Why don't you go out to the Pearl and surprise her?"

"An excellent idea, Captain," said Judah, and, with a nod to the guests, went to help both boats shove off again before climbing in himself, eyes alight with anticipation.

******************

The whole party made its way slowly up the hill to the house. The four children were nowhere to be seen, but Rachel, meeting the group on the back veranda with a smiling face and iced drinks said that they were off to the stables to see the newest addition to the Island House string, a foal that had been born only two days before. 

Harry said to Margaret, "You needn't worry: Owens knows the island like the back of his hand. He stayed with us here for weeks after the wedding, you know. My niece, Elizabeth, and her husband William Turner were also here. Do you remember her, Maggie? All eyes and long limbs? She has grown into such a beauty you will not credit it!"

Lady Margaret laughed. "It runs in the family, doesn't it?"

Harry said, "Oh no! She is much more beautiful than ever I was, give you my word!"

"Then she must be a paragon indeed!" said Margaret. 

"Well she is," said Harry, "But you need not go on in that style: I was never a match for you, as you well know."

Lady Margaret shook her head. "Doing it too brown, as usual. You haven't changed at all. There is more to beauty than fair hair and a good figure. You have a charm that will stand you in good stead for all your days, long after any beauty I may claim is faded and gone. And in that sense, you and your new husband are a good match: I don't believe I've ever met anyone with more roguish charm in my life!"

Harry smiled, and looked over to where Jack was flirting with Miriam Lightfoot, who was laughing and blushing like a girl. "No. He is quite perfect, isn't he? Did he tell you how we met?"

"No, he said he'd leave that to you." Margaret eyed her friend, whose eyes were sparkling with mirth. 

"He bought me at a Bride's Auction, on Tortuga—a dreadful place! I was captured by another pirate, and Weatherby and Elizabeth got wind of it, and then Jack showed up just in time to help rescue me!"

"Oh, my heavens!" said Lady Margaret, faintly. "How horrible! But…well, a thousand questions spring to mind. You will tell me the whole story later, will you not?"

"Yes, of course. And you must tell me everything, too. I take it Holliday died?" Harry said, sympathetically.

"Yes. Yes, I shall tell you about it. But not now." Margaret looked a little uncomfortable.

"Later then," agreed Harry. "But three children! And such pretty ones, too! Little Charles looks very like his father, as I remember him, and the girls will be diamonds of the first water, just as you were!"

"Yes, I fancy they are very pretty, and they are very good girls too. They are both in love with your husband, you know."

Harry laughed. "Well, that goes without saying, does it not? I quite understand how they feel. And he seems to like them, as well, especially Julietta. He will make the most delightful father!"

"Yes, he told me you were increasing!"

Harry nodded. "I'm six and a half months along now." A look of rather devilish amusement came into her eyes at her friend's startled expression. "He told you we were married at the beginning of May, did he?"

"Y-yes. You…you were…"

Harry nodded. "We wouldn't have married, else. It was quite unexpected."

"But…how could it have been?" Lady Margaret asked in disbelief.

"Well, I was married to Wyndham for two years! And never the least sign of a child. But apparently that was his fault, rather than mine as I had thought. It was quite disconcerting when I was brought to realize the situation, and there was a dreadful row when Weatherby found out, as you might imagine. But it all came right in the end and here we are: happily married these four months and the baby due in another two. Or two and a half. I'm not really sure."

Lady Margaret stared, listening to her friend's blithe tone and, when Harry ended the speech, shook her head in amazement. "You are the luckiest woman I know, Harry, to have come out of such a scrape smelling like a rose. My God, do you know how many women would be cast off by their families for such a thing?"

"Oh, yes, but George has done far worse things than this, and Weatherby has simply given up hope of ever making me conform to acceptable standards of behavior, I think. About bloody time, I say!"

"Harry, you are outrageous!" Lady Margaret said, laughing in spite of herself.

"Yes. But Jack likes me that way, so I doubt I shall put myself to the trouble of changing now. Let me show you to your room—the house is really quite lovely!"

And, as comfortable with each other as they had ever been as girls, the two women disappeared into the house. 


	5. The Marvelous Idea

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's.

**_Harry & the Pirate: Norrington's Choice_**__

**Chapter V. _The Marvelous Idea                _**

With Harry busy showing Lady Margaret the house, and Miriam Lightfoot tearing herself away to help Nurse Maria keep an eye on the children, Jack returned to the _Black Pearl_ and supervised the offloading of three important items: the harpsichord, his chef Anatole, and Alphonse, his valet.

"There's to be a celebration tonight, Anatole, and your help in the kitchen would be appreciated, as usual," Jack told the Frenchman.

Anatole twirled one side of his dark moustache. "But of course, _mon Capitaine_! It goes without saying they will need my expertise, does it not?"

"And I, _Capitaine Jacques_," said Alphonse, smiling with anticipation, "will put forth efforts of the most heroic to make you worthy to be seen as the consort of the so beautiful Madame Henrietta."

"A bath and a trim'll do just fine," Jack told him, a slight growl to his voice. "Don't be gettin' any ideas about me hair. What I really want from you is help setting up that harpsichord!"

"I am entirely at your service, _Capitaine_. A surprise for Madame?"

"Aye. I'm hoping she'll like it better'n jewels an' such."

She did.

Jack and Alphonse had managed to sneak the crates into the drawing room and, closing the doors against prying eyes, had got it all set up and ready to play without Harry becoming aware. Finally, smiling, Jack had poked a key, then jumped at the surprisingly loud note that sounded.

Five seconds later, the door opened, and Harry poked her head into the room. "What was that?" she demanded. Seeing Jack and Alphonse standing in front of a large, unfamiliar, and interesting object, she came into the room, followed by Lady Margaret.

Jack exclaimed, "Bl…I mean…_Blast!_ You were supposed to stay out of here 'til after dinner!"

"Oh, what is it?" Harry exclaimed, hurrying forward. Jack and Alphonse exchanged resigned glances and moved out of the way. "A harpsichord! Oh, Jack! It's lovely! Where did you get it?"

"Same place I got Lady Margaret," laughed Jack with a wink at Harry's friend. He watched his wife circle the instrument in awe, for every side of it was decorated with colorful, beautifully rendered scenes taken from Greek mythology.

"The _Valliant_, you mean? Do you know who this was going to, Maggie?"

"I've no idea," said Lady Margaret, "Although we were to stop at Martinique to offload some goods before heading on to New Orleans."

"I'll wager it was for the Governor of Martinique!" Harry said. "Jack took Anatole from him, and cases and cases of good brandy, and probably a good many other things."

Alphonse said, "My former master, Monsieur Beauvais, was also a friend of the Governor's."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Jack. "Well, I would say the Governor of Martinique is not like to be counted among our friends any time soon. But this instrument is too beautiful!" She sat down on the little bench and played a five-note scale. "The tone is lovely!"

"We've brought the music that was packed away for it," said Jack.

"Oh, let me see!" Harry exclaimed eagerly. Jack handed her several sheets of music and she looked quickly through them. " I used to know this one: _Lavolta or Lady Morley_, by Byrd!" She set the music up and began to play, but slowly and somewhat hesitantly. Finally, wincing along with the third wrong note (as did her three listeners) she stopped and turned to them with a weak smile. "I'm sorry! I shall have to practice. It's been far too long since I had the opportunity to play. Can you play, Maggie?"

"No, not really. The harp was my instrument, if you recall. But all you need is some practice! I remember how well you played when we were at school!" Lady Margaret looked at Jack. "Truly, I assure you!"

"Yes. It was nearly my only innocuous pastime, wasn't it?" laughed Harry.

Jack grinned. "Lady Margaret has been telling us of some of her little adventures with you at St. Mary's Academie for Young Ladies."

"Oh, has she?" Harry shook her head sadly at Margaret. "Really, it is too bad of you! I daresay she exaggerated my propensity for getting into scrapes out of all proportion!"

"Not at all!" said Margaret, primly, eyes laughing. "There was no need to exaggerate! And I felt quite justified telling him of some of them as you invariably dragged me into them."

Harry pouted. "Dragged you, indeed! Really, Maggie, you would have had the dullest time if you had not been my friend. Admit it!"

Lady Margaret smiled. "Oh, I do! Truly. In spite of the discomfort associated with the aftermath of some of our adventures, I would not undo any of it. But I pray you, watch what you say of it to my children. Charles is mischievous enough, but I could see my little Suzanna getting ideas, especially when I was telling Captain Sparrow of that night we stole out to go swimming in that beautiful little lake."

"You told him of that?" Harry said, surprised. "And of dancing naked in the moonlight?" She looked at Jack, her lips quivering. "I had been reading of druidic customs, and it was Beltane--if one dances in the dewy morn of Beltane, one's beauty is ensured for the year!"

Margaret's cheeks went quite pink. "No, I obviously didn't tell him that!" she said, exasperated, "although I might have guessed _you_ would not hesitate!"

"Well, yes, you have known me long enough, after all," returned Harry, with a grin. "We must have looked a sight, two skinny little things cavorting on the lawn! Fortunately we weren't caught out that time. But Maggie! I don't think you are much plumper now, after those months of sea-sickness! We must fatten you up again!" 

"Anatole has been doing his best to tempt me to eat, and we had such calm weather while I was aboard the _Black Pearl_ I was really much better. Still, I must say it is a truly lovely feeling to be on solid ground again!"

"That's a matter of opinion," said Jack, "But I think we are all of an accord as regards Anatole's cooking."

"Oh yes! And dinner will be ready soon, too!" said Harry. She got up and went to Jack. "I must thank you properly for the lovely gift!" she said and kissed him.

"Mmmm…was that proper, then?" said Jack, sounding disappointed, but looking sly.

"Yes," she said, trying not to laugh, "You must wait 'til later to be thanked improperly!" Harry turned to the valet. "Alphonse! Why don't you attend your master in his chamber, while I see if I can remember how to play this tune sufficiently well to entertain everyone after dinner!"

"Your wish is my command, Madame," said Alphonse, with a look of gleeful anticipation thrown at Jack.

Jack frowned, and assumed a put-upon air. "Oh, all right. But you're leavin' me hair alone, like I said."

"Oh no!" Lady Margaret said with dismay. "Harry has been telling me how beautiful you were at both Elizabeth's wedding and your own! I was quite hoping to see you with your hair in a less piratical style!"

"Well, as anxious as I am to please a guest, ma'am, you'll just have to keep hoping. 'Beautiful'! Good God!" said Jack, quite disgusted. "Come on then!" he said to Alphonse, "Let's get it over with."

He walked out, followed by Alphonse, who turned to grin at the laughing ladies before closing the doors.

****************

Harry, coming upstairs to dress for dinner, saw Jack walk out of his dressing room and down the hall toward her. Alphonse had done an outstanding job of grooming and dressing him without driving him mad with impatience, and he was now the epitome of piratical splendor, a worthy consort indeed. 

"Oh, you _are_ beautiful!" she exclaimed, approaching him with an appreciative glint in her eye.

Laughing, he allowed himself to be backed against the wall, and thoroughly kissed, doing his part by pulling her close with one arm and busily pulling the skirt of her dress up with the other. He had just slipped his hand under the bulk of it to caress her backside when Alphonse emerged from the dressing room. Jack let the skirt drop, and both he and Harry straightened abruptly, attempting to look innocent and not really succeeding.

Alphonse started at the sight of them, raised his hands, and said, vehemently, "But no! I am not here! It is as though I have never been!"

"You've seen nothing," Jack agreed.

"There was nothing to see as I have never been here," corrected Alphonse. The valet nodded to them as he walked by and went quickly down the stairs.

Harry turned back to Jack and said, "He did an excellent job for having never been here!" She straightened Jack's burgundy coat, admiringly, and smiled up at him, drinking in the sight of him after so many weeks.

"He did. You wouldn't want to be undoing it all you know. If I get undressed again I'll want to stay that way, and I'm afraid Lady Margaret would be a bit shocked."

"Not to mention Nurse Maria!" Harry said, and both of them snorted with laughter at the picture this conjured up. "She doesn't seem to like you!" Harry said, shaking her head in wonder. "And all you did was sink the _Valliant_!"

"Aye. There's no accounting for it. And I only _threatened_ to lock her in the brig. I wouldn't have done it. Would've had to put the children in with her. Though that might've done young Charles a bit of good."

Harry laughed. "Is he very mischievous? I expect you were just the same at that age."

"Aye, I was. Or worse. And on that note, your ladyship, I believe I should go down and see what mischief he and Owens have got up to, while you go change your dress. Not that the one you're wearing is at all bad…" He slipped a questing finger beneath the fabric and lace at the edge of the low décolletage, and smiled at her slight gasp.

Harry put her arms around him again and said, her lips a fraction of an inch from his, "If you don't want to be undressed you'd better stop that!" Then she kissed him, and gave a soft sound of pleasure against his lips at the feel of his fingers as they caressed her though the silk of her bodice. 

He moved his lips to her cheek, then breathed in her ear and moved one hand around to pull her close again as the other moved lower to stroke her belly, which had grown somewhat in his absence. "Young Sparrow's gettin' in the way here," he murmured.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. We'll have to be more creative, won't we?"

"Aye. We will." He suddenly bent and swept her up into his arms, smiling at her slight shriek. 

"What are you doing?" she laughed as he carried her back up the hall. "I thought you didn't want to get undressed!"

"I'm not going to," he said, with a lewd smile. "Just a little bite, before the main course, eh?"

And, entering their bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind them.

****************

The sun was setting behind a bank of swelling pink and orange clouds by the time Harry emerged from the house dressed for dinner, with her hair freshly done up. Lady Margaret, who was sitting alone in the shade of the veranda said to her, "There you are at last! I had wondered where you were. Your husband came out some time ago!"

Harry looked out across the courtyard to where Jack stood, conversing with Rachel and Gibbs. He looked up and saw her, and his serious look changed to a smirk and and a suggestive waggle of eyebrows. Harry felt herself coloring, her lips quivering against an answering smile. She tilted her chin at him defiantly, and saw his smirk turn to a grin. "Oh! He is the most arrogant creature!" she said, and sat down next to her friend. 

Margaret laughed. "Apparently he has good reason: I don't believe I've ever seen you blush like that. Not even as a young girl!"

"Yes. Well. I've only known Jack Sparrow for eight months or so."

Margaret's smile faltered. "I can see that you are both very much in love. I envy you that."

Harry's ready sympathy was aroused. "Do you miss him dreadfully?"

The pale brows rose. "Geoffrey, you mean. I…" She hesitated, then said softly, "No. But I beg you will say nothing of this to anyone."

Harry was quite stunned. "I will not, of course! But Maggie, I thought yours was a love match! I am sure you told me so yourself!"

"Yes. I know it. But that was years ago—when we first were married."

"My dear! I had thought you so happy all these years!"

Margaret smiled sadly. "Oh, I was happy enough. I had my house, and my children. But with Geoffrey…things changed. There were others, you see. I'm afraid he grew bored with me, and of family life. He had been too long a man of the town, perhaps."

Harry bridled, indignant for her friend. "Too long a rake, you mean! How despicable!"

Margaret shook her head. "You did not think so with Wyndham. I was fooling myself from the start, thinking Geoff would change."

"Perhaps," said Harry, "But even so, he was a fool!" Her eyes flashed, thinking of how beautiful and sweet-natured Maggie was: a pearl beyond price, indeed. Holliday apparently had had not the least inkling of what he possessed!

"No, Harry," said Margaret. "I was a silly girl. You were far wiser than I, although at that time I could not have brought myself to set aside romance. At least…well…I've always had a soft spot for a rake, you know."

"Most women do, Maggie. Their mistake is in thinking they can alter the nature of the object of their affection. A leopard doesn't change his spots."

"There's a leopard?" Jack asked, insinuating himself into a seat. Margaret jumped a little, startled, and he raised a brow and looked a question at Harry.

"You," said Harry, "And your spots are unchanging. Once a rake, always a rake."

"Oh, a rake is it? I've not looked at another woman since meeting you and this is the thanks I get? Have to remedy that next time I'm in Tortuga, eh?"

"Only if you wish to have your throat slit the next time you come home," Harry said, without heat. "I keep that knife you gave me nicely sharpened."

Jack shook his head, and said to Margaret, "Bloodthirsty, ain't she?" He said to Harry, in a severe tone, "You're shocking Lady Margaret again, you know. And I'd hate to think what Nurse Maria would say to such talk."

Harry chuckled, and Margaret gave a most unladylike snort of amusement.

Jack nodded, sagely. "Best keep it to ourselves, eh?"

"Is dinner ready?" asked Harry. "I am quite famished!"

"It is. Rachel sent me to tell you. We've been discussing the storm."

"What storm?" Harry looked at the sky. The air was still, and heavy, although somewhat cooler than it had been earlier in the day, and the only sign of clouds were those on the horizon, which had been ablaze with color a few minutes before but were now fading with the setting sun. 

"If you'd lived out here a few years you'd know. There's a storm coming, and a big one at that. I'm moving the ship to Pearl's Rest first thing in the morning. Should do it tonight, actually."

"Oh, can I come?" asked Harry, eagerly. "We could stay in the cabin tonight!"

Jack shook his head. "I can just see you and young Sparrow trying to climb that rope ladder. You can barely do it when you're _not_ six months along!"

Margaret looked a question at Harry, who said with a rueful smile, "I am a little afraid of heights, you see."

"Really! I didn't think you were afraid of anything!"

"Aye," said Jack, to Margaret. "Nearly swooned at me feet the first time she had to board the Pearl."

"I did not!" exclaimed Harry, indignantly.

"You did," asserted Jack, and as he spoke a bell jangled, announcing supper. "Time for supper, ladies. Shall we go see what Anatole and his crew have been cooking for us?" He stood and offered them each an arm.

*********************

"Jack."

"Hmm."

"Jack! Are you awake?"

"Go t'sleep, love. 's late."

"But I have the most marvelous idea!" Harry curled herself against him, thoroughly enjoying this closeness after all the lonely weeks. She ran a hand lightly over his bare chest, but he turned toward her and caught the hand in his.

"In the morning, eh?" He kissed the hand, and then her forehead.

"It's Norrington!"

There was a pause, and then Jack opened one eye. "Norrington."

She drew back slightly and studied his face, and smiled. "Yes. The Commodore, you know! Are you sure there's to be a storm? The moonlight is quite bright and lovely. Makes you look devilishly handsome."

He opened the other eye. "Well, that's an improvement over 'beautiful', at any rate. It'll be raining by morning. How is it I no sooner finish making passionate, and, arguably, exquisite love to you…"

"It _was_ exquisite!" Harry smiled, eyelids drooping. She kissed him. "Didn't you think so?"

"Mmmm. Yes. Exquisite, then. How is it that we're no sooner finished and ready to sink into blissful slumber, when out o' the blue the name of the man who nearly succeeded in ending me illustrious career at the end of a rope is hovering on your pretty lips?"

"Are they pretty?" she murmured, kissing him again.

His hand slid down her back, and he lightly pinched her. "Harry!"

She chuckled, moved even closer, and said, "I was just thinking of Margaret. And Norrington. Together, you know."

"Together!"

"Yes. Margaret needs a husband. And a father for those children too, as charming as they are. And she deserves someone wonderful. And she _knows_ James!"

"Does she, now." Jack looked dubious. "Norrington offering for a woman with three children? Can't see it meself."

"He'd make a lovely father! And she'd be perfect for him! _And_ it would give him something to think about besides pirate-catching!"

He chuckled, himself, at this. "S'pose it would at that. An' how d'you propose to bring about this liaison? Margaret was going to visit her Aunt in New Orleans."

"Well, she shan't do so. You shall take us to Port Royal, on the _Black Pearl_! How lovely it will be to sail again! And I shall give a ball, in Weatherby's house, and everyone will come, and Maggie and Norrington will be looking their very best, and will instantly fall in love. I have quite decided on it."

Jack eyed her in fascinated wonder. "And they call _me_ daft."

"What's daft about it?" she demanded.

"First, Maggie won't think it lovely to sail at all. She could barely walk when I took her off the Valliant: she'd been seasick for weeks! Second, your brother would likely have a few choice words to say about you takin' over his house to give a ball for her. Third, it's not likely the good citizens of Port Royal would come anyway."

"Why not?" said Harry, indignantly. "They would too!"

"Harry, love, they may have elected to overlook Elizabeth's little adventure--it wasn't her fault she was kidnapped by undead pirates, and marooned alone with me, after all. But you've made your own bed, as it were."

"So you think they'll cut our acquaintance! Because you're a pirate!" Harry shook her head, and kissed him again. "Much you know about it. Do you honestly think any woman in Port Royal would give up the chance to meet the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow, husband of the former Dowager Duchess of Wyndham, brother-in-law to Governor Swann, and friend of Commodore Norrington? Not bloody likely! And where the women go, the men will follow. Mark my words!"

_Consider them marked_… Jack heard the words in his head, spoken in Norrington's sarcastic yet ever well-bred tones. "'Friend' of the Commodore. I wouldn't go that far!"

"He attended our wedding!"

Jack eyed Harry with amusement, and some exasperation. It was quite obvious she wasn't going to back down. "Well, Mrs. Sparrow, I've one more argument you cannot refute. It'd be the devil of a lot of work, puttin' on a to-do of that sort, and you are supposed to be resting. Which, I might add, you have not been doing, contrary to orders. _Have you_?" He lifted a brow at her hesitation and sudden look of chagrin.

"Did Rachel tell you?" she asked, hurt and a little defiant.

"She didn't have to." He took the little hand that was gripping his arm and kissed her fingers and said, "These told me!" He ran his calloused fingers over hers, over the places that were newly rough and reddened, and smiled grimly at her gathering look of dismay.

She said at last, softly pleading, "Jack! I have things I want to do! And I am well. _Very_ well! Truly!"

The humor faded from his face, replaced by something akin to wonder. He let go of her hand, moved and angled himself against her, pressing her into the bed, and kissed her rather fiercely. She caught his mood, and answered it, her arms tightening around him. He finally moved his lips across her cheek to breathe into her ear. "It scares me, how much I love you," he whispered.

Tears stung behind Harry's eyes. "Yes," she said, and turned her face to kiss him again with all the fear and tenderness that lay in her own heart, and all ideas and arguments were laid aside for that time, save one.   


	6. Tropical Storm

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's.

**_Harry & the Pirate: Norrington's Choice_**

******VI. Tropical Storm**

Harry awoke very late the next morning, finally roused by the sounds of rain tapping on the windows, and of distant hammering. The curtains on the windows had been pulled back, but the dim light that shone in had not been enough to wake her at her usual hour. Jack had been right: there was a storm coming.

She dimly remembered him leaving the warmth of their bed to dress, overriding her sleepily murmured protests with a kiss and an assurance he'd return to the house before she came down for breakfast. It had still been dark then. Now, she stretched luxuriously, and got out of bed, a little smile on her lips as she donned an expensive and very beautiful dressing gown, and matching embroidered slippers. "Young Sparrow" was awake as well, making his (or her!) presence known in a rather vigorous manner. She wondered if Jack, lying with her last night, had noticed how much the baby moved—far more than when he had last come to the island. Six weeks was a long time for a baby. And for a wife, too, for that matter. But her husband was here now, and her happiness was complete, for a time. She went out to find him.

There was no one about as she descended the stairs and padded down the wide central hallway toward the open front doors. It was only faintly cool, and the rain was coming down gently as yet, the air soft and fragrant with it. She walked out onto the wide veranda and saw Jack immediately. He was standing in the courtyard, a water-proofed cloak covering his coat, his hat pulled well down on his head, speaking with a group of similarly clad men, some from the plantation, some from the _Black Pearl_. Owens, and Charles Holliday were among them, both looking excited and proud to be among the helpers. Owens saw Harry on the veranda and smiled, waving a greeting. Jack glanced briefly, quickly finished issuing his orders, dismissed the storm crew and turned to stride toward her.

"Did you move the _Black Pearl_?" she asked as he approached.

"We've been back for an hour. That's a mighty fetching wrap, Madam Slugabed!" Grinning, he proceeded to pull her into a very damp embrace, giving her a hearty kiss, and chuckling at her struggles and squeaks of protest.

"_You're all wet!_" she exclaimed as soon as she was able, laughing.

"Aye, and I'm like to be a great deal wetter before I'm through. Lady Margaret! Told you she'd be up 'betimes'."

"So you did, Captain!"

Harry turned, and smiled at the sight of Maggie coming out of the house, holding Julietta.

The little girl stared with enormous blue eyes, sucking her thumb, and considering the Captain and Mrs. Sparrow. She finally pulled her thumb out, with a slight pop, pointed, and said, "Wet!" All three adults laughed, and Julietta replaced her thumb, but with merry eyes.

"Yes, extremely wet, thanks to your Captain Jack," Harry said. "If the weather wasn't so mild I'd have to be quite upset!"

"Oh, it'll likely stay warmish," said Jack, "but the wind is starting to pick up already. See the trees?"

Harry looked at the tops of the large flowering trees that adorned the edges of the courtyard, and saw that their tops were swaying and rustling.

Jack said, "By nightfall we'll be for it and no mistake. It's comin' in from the east, so I've sent runners out to warn those folk as live on that side of the island. They'll need to shut everything up tight and just hope for the best. Thought we could put 'em up in the workshop, if need be."

"You think it will be that bad?" Harry asked, suddenly concerned.

"Aye. Don't know _how_ bad, yet, but it's better to be safe than sorry: it's the season for this kind of storm, and they can be killers. I'm glad my ship's not out on the water. Should be safe enough at Pearl's Rest: it's on the west side. Island House and the outbuildings here should be all right as well—you're on high ground, and a bit sheltered by all the trees. But I've set men to work boarding up the windows, considerin' the price of glass, and how hard it is to get!"

"You think the wind will break them?" Harry asked in wonder.

"I've seen it happen. But no worries: we've time to prepare, I think. It seems to be movin' slow, which is a good thing now, but won't be appreciated so much later, when we're stuck inside waitin' for it to finish up."

"What shall I do?" asked Harry, suddenly itching to be of use in this crisis.

"You shall rest as much as you can! You do too much around here as it is! You've got a pack of servants to help you: let 'em help!"

Harry's eyes flashed, but before she could utter the retort that sprang to her lips Lady Margaret broke in, saying, "Yes, you need not do anything strenuous, I think! Come have breakfast in the Morning Room: there is a delightful little fire, which we lit for cheeriness rather than warmth, though it will serve to dry your clothing just the same. Anatole baked some lovely pastries, and there is tea and we can boil an egg for you. After breakfast we can help Anatole in the workshop, where your husband has sent him to prepare vast quantities of soup for any evacuees."

Harry's mulish look faded a little. "Very well, then," she said, but her eyes narrowed at Jack's pleased expression.

"Thank you, Lady Margaret," said Jack, and chucked his wife under her tilted chin, and kissed her again. "Behave yourself, Madam. I'm off to help board up windows. I'll see you at dinner, I expect."

As Jack took himself off, Harry's expression lightened to one of exasperated fondness. "He is such a meddlesome tyrant, sometimes!"

"Of course he is! He is the captain of a ship, Harry. He is accustomed to giving orders, and having them carried out without question!" Margaret turned and followed Harry into the house.

As they walked back toward the Morning Room, Harry rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me. It's probably as well we are apart as much as we are, for I grew far too used to doing exactly as I pleased after Charles died. I try to remember I willingly vowed to 'obey' him four months ago, but really he is quite excessively anxious about me just now. One would think I was in ill health, when the truth is I am very well indeed! I was not even sick in the mornings, after the second month!"

Maggie shook her head at her friend's evidently unabated willfulness. "He loves you very dearly, Harry! Anyone can see it, when you are together. And Rachel tells me his mother died in childbed, when he was a lad. It's only natural he should feel concern for you."

Harry sighed. "I know. And I try to be patient, really I do. But that is one of the reasons I left England: I wanted the freedom to _do_ things! Without being frowned upon!"

"Well, only a few more months and you will wish you had more time to rest!" laughed Margaret. "Unless you rely on a nurse and servants more than I did."

Harry smiled. "You are likely right. What an adventure it will be! I never thought to have a child, and know nothing about babies. Sit down here, now. You shall tell me everything I need to know while I boil that egg, and eat some of these lovely scones. Young Sparrow and I are _very_ fond of Anatole's scones!"

---------------------------------

The storm turned out to be quite as bad as Jack prophesied, and by nightfall of that first day, Harry was very thankful that he had been there with his uncannily accurate warning, and to help organize preparations. He seemed to know exactly what to do, and how quickly it must be done, and the folk of the island (and his own crew, of course) followed his orders with little question. Even Harry ceased to argue with him, for there was enough for everyone to do, in the beginning, and by evening, when everything had been readied as much as possible and the wind and rain had been joined by lightning and rolling thunder, she was very tired indeed and was content to sit curled beside him by the little fire in the library.

The library was located at the west side of the house, which Jack declared would be the safest place to stay that night. It was a large room, thickly carpeted and comfortably furnished, and they augmented the furnishings with pillows and blankets brought down from the bedrooms upstairs. Harry and Jack, the Hollidays, Rachel and several housemaids, Anamaria and Judah, Alphonse and Owens, and all five Lightfoots were there. Giles and his sons had come over from the Northtown settlement to join Miriam and Lily in the comparative safety of Island House.

The other Northtown residents, as well as nearly the entire population of the eastern side of the island, had also come to the plantation compound, and were waiting out the storm in the safety of the workshop, the enormous stone building that housed, among other things, the forge and storage room which had played so prominent a part in Harry and Jack's first adventure on St. Claire. All evidence of the evil Lucius Cray had long since been eradicated, and the island residents and members of the _Black Pearl's_ crew that had taken shelter there were exceedingly grateful to have such a large, sturdy, and well-equipped place in which to wait out the storm. Anatole, with help from Harry and Lady Margaret, had prepared excellent provisions for the evacuees, and, with the addition of liberal quantities of Rachel's rum punch for the adults, the atmosphere within the great building soon turned festive. Musical instruments were brought forth, and singing and story telling began, and continued far into the night, to the delight of the children who were allowed to stay up as late as they wished, and considered the whole affair a very exciting and unusual adventure. The wind might be howling without, the rain coming down harder and harder, and the thunder crashing with furious regularity, but the thick stone walls of the workshop muffled the sounds of the storm so much that they did little to dampen the spirits of those within.

In Island House itself, activity was more subdued. The windows of the house had all been boarded, but the wind and rain rose in intensity throughout the evening, and poor little Julietta was very unhappy when the thunder began. The other children hid their fear more effectively, but when the gusting wind began to make the library fire smoke, forcing them to extinguish its comforting presence, even Charles Holliday grew quiet, and sat closer to his mother and her friends.

Conversation was difficult due to the noise of the storm, but everyone took comfort in being together, and there was an added entertainment in the form of a mother cat and six kittens that Suzanna Holliday and Lillian Lightfoot had rescued and brought in from the stable earlier in the day. The kittens could not yet be separated from their mother, but were just old enough to be curious about their surroundings, and there was much laughter over their antics, and enjoyment in holding and petting the tiny things. At last, though, the kittens grew tired, and as they curled into a warm pile against their mother in the box that had been provided for them, the human occupants in the room settled in for the night as well.

It was about four in the morning and everyone was dozing fitfully when an enormous and terrifying crash sounded, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Jack lit the lantern and he, Judah and Giles Lightfoot went to investigate. Presently they returned, announcing that one of the beautiful trees at the east side of the house had completely toppled over, damaging the siding and breaking completely through one of the boarded up windows in the drawing room.

"We've moved the carpet and furniture out of the way, but we'll have to wait 'til light to do more," said Giles on their return.

"My harpsichord!" exclaimed Harry. "Was it damaged?"

"No," said Jack. "We've moved it across the hall. It'll be safe enough."

"That was the first thing to be rescued," Giles commented. "Jack insisted on it."

"Very proper," said Harry, greatly approving.

Everyone was up when it grew light enough to see, and Rachel arranged breakfast for the group. Jack ventured out and went over to the workshop to see how everyone was faring there.

"They're better off than we are," he said when he returned, soaked to the skin. "Anatole's laid in enough food for an army and it looks like they had a party last night!"

"If this storm lasts much longer I'll be tempted to join 'em!" Anamaria said, bored with being cooped up in the house. "Judah and I can make sure things don't get out of hand."

The storm raged all through the day and most of the next night. Anamaria and Judah did not leave Island House, however, for after he'd put on dry clothes and eaten, Jack began to tell the children stories to keep them entertained, and the other adults followed suit. The noise of the storm had continued so long it seemed to fade into the background, and they grew used to using louder voices as they told their tales. No more trees fell, at least near the house, and everyone ate, slept, listened to stories, or played with the kittens as the mood struck them.

Twenty-four hours after the tree had fallen, the silence woke Jack and Harry together. They wrapped themselves in blankets, and went out to look at the stars, shining down from between wisps of cloud. The fallen tree was visible at the side of the house, and the courtyard was littered with debris. The storm was finally over.

It had, however, left a great swath of destruction in its wake. At first light, the residents emerged and began to assess the damage. It would have been much worse, had it not been for the preparations made two days before, but it was bad enough and there was hard work in store for everyone.

-----------------------------

One night about two weeks after the storm, Jack announced that he would be taking the _Black Pearl_ to Tortuga in a day or two, to see how that notorious town had fared, and to finally offload and sell the swag he and the crew had collected over the last two months. Most of the heavier damage from the storm had been cleaned up, although it would be some weeks before everything was back in order.

He said to Lady Margaret and Rachel, "I'll have to rely on you ladies to keep an eye on me wife. She tends to want to overdo, as you both likely have noticed."

"I do not!" exclaimed Harry, petulantly.

"You do," said Jack, glaring at her. "You were up at dawn again today, and didn't take a nap, either. Did you?"

"Harry, Jack is right!" said Margaret, and her lips quivered against a smile as her friend looked daggers at her. "You need to take care of yourself—you would not want to risk either your own health, or that of your Young Sparrow."

"No," Harry agreed, "But truly, I am not! I feel well! Very well!"

"You've been doing too much," Jack said, stubbornly. "Hasn't she Rachel?"

"Maybe a little," Rachel conceded. "But I've seen many a woman with energy enough and to spare, right up to the birth. But don't you worry, Captain, we'll take good care of her."

Jack did not leave until the second day after this discussion, for somehow their slight disagreement resulted in a night of passion that left both Harry and himself in need of additional rest the next day. They did not emerge from their bedroom until the late afternoon, and then endured the amused glances of their friends with easy-going indifference. Jack confided to Rachel that at least now he knew Harry was well rested before his departure.

--------------------------------------

At dinner that evening, Michael Owens and Charles Holliday were both fidgeting with an air of suppressed excitement that finally penetrated even Jack and Harry's abstraction.

"What the devil's ailing you, lad?" Jack demanded of his Cabin Boy.

"Captain…can Charles go with us to Tortuga? He wants to meet Tom and Robbie, and go fishing and see the sights, and…"

"Tortuga!" exclaimed Lady Margaret. "Is that not the terrible place where the Bride's Auction was held?"

"It's not a terrible place!" exclaimed Owens, and then flushed and mumbled, "Sorry!" when Jack gave him a warning glance.

Jack said, "Aye, that's the place. An' it's terrible, sure enough, but only some of it. Owens visits the sons of an old friend of mine, the Widow McGee. She owns one of the better inns—caters to the quality, such as come to Tortuga."

"Please may I go, Mama?" Charles begged. "I'll be fine! And you and Lady Harry can have a nice visit without you worrying about me being underfoot!"

Lady Margaret laughed, and Harry chuckled too, not only at this ingenious argument, but at Jack's grimace.

Lady Margaret said, "I'm not sure we should impose on Captain Sparrow's good nature in such a manner. Perhaps he doesn't want an additional charge."

"But I wouldn't be any trouble!" Charles objected.

"I'd keep an eye on him," Owens assured Jack. "I'm older, after all!"

"Older!" said Jack, scornfully. "By what? Six months? And considering the trouble you two managed to get into during those few days on the _Pearl_—well, the thought of lettin' the two o' you loose together in Tortuga fair curls me liver!"

-------------------------------

In the end, however, Jack gave in to the boys' entreaties. It was against his better judgement, and he was quite sure their promises of good behavior would go by the wayside as soon as they were out of sight of St. Claire; but on the other hand, Harry and Lady Margaret would have an easier, more restful time of it while they were gone, and Jack was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity to provide that for his darling and her friend.

Actually, young Charles didn't quite break loose from the dictates of propriety and common sense until the Isle de Tortue hove into sight. As the _Black Pearl_ slid into the bay, Jack watched the boys' excited expressions with more and more misgiving, and after the ship slid into a vacant berth and had been tied off he took them down to his cabin and read them a serious lecture on the conduct expected of young boys left to Captain Jack Sparrow's charge. They nodded vigorously, agreeing with everything he said, and as he let them depart and watched them fairly leaping down the gangplank and the dock and onto the waterfront, headed toward the Widow's Inn and the McGee boys, Jack commented to Gibbs that he didn't know why he'd bothered.

"Lay you odds they're in trouble before the night's out," Gibbs said.

"No," said Jack. "By supper, at the latest."

He was right. And as the days passed, and he went about trying to conduct his business while half his brain was occupied with worrying about what the 'whelps' were 'getting up to now', he realised he'd never had such a dreadful visit to the pirate haven. It was certainly a far cry from the days when his only concerns were finding the best grog and the warmest bed in town. Not that he missed the bedding part: it'd be foolish to try to return to that when he'd been enveloped in Harry's love and passion these many months. But to be there, and not be free to relax and have a drink or two (or three, or more) without being called on to rescue the young varmints from the consequences of their own foolishness made him want to grind his teeth and punch walls—or at least howl at the moon a bit.

Owens, Charles Holliday, and the McGee Brothers, on the other hand, were having a spectacularly good time, at least for the first few days. Owens tried at first to be the voice of wisdom in the group, but soon gave it up, for Charles's joy and enthusiasm for kicking up larks was quite contagious and tended to override any of Jack's lectures and scolding. Charles, whose life had been quite circumscribed until now, was ready to break loose in any direction, and the McGee Brothers were his willing acolytes. Owens's love for Jack kept him more cognizant of the effects of their mischief, but even that was not enough to stop him enjoying the fun and antics of his friends.

And so, as the days passed, the pranks grew more serious, until finally, on their fourth day in Tortuga, Jack's charges found themselves hauled up before their Captain, who fixed them both with a baleful eye, to the amusement of the few crewmembers who had the watch and were aboard to witness the contretemps.

Owens's chagrin and penitence were evident, but Charles appeared to look on their mutual deviltry as a series of grand adventures. Jack was furious.

He addressed them both in an acid growl, " Well, you've had the _Adventure of the Purloined Cakes_, and the _Adventure of the Forbidden Tavern_, and topped it off with the _Adventure of the Burning Carriage House_. So now, you misbegotten whelps, you can have the adventure of polishing the _Pearl's_ brightwork for the next three days! And if I hear a word of fussin' outta either one o' you, you'll both be havin' the adventure of the Captain thrashin' your backsides! Savvy?"

Even Charles could see that Jack was deadly serious, and, glancing at the expression on his friend's face, he swallowed hard and said in a rather unsteady voice, "Aye, Captain!"

However, in spite of the dire threat, by the end of that first day Charles found it very difficult to refrain from "fussin'". The work, though not difficult, was hot and very tedious, and his hands were entirely unused to such labor. He kept silent then, but toward noon of the second day he made the mistake of complaining to Owens and was surprised and angry when his mild-mannered friend turned on him, telling him to "Shut up you bloody get, it's all your fault anyway!" This was, in fact, a little unfair, for Owens had participated in and enjoyed the adventures nearly as much as any of the others, and Charles naturally took exception to the accusation. A fight ensued, their sparring progressing from verbal to physical in short order, and when Gibbs came to see what the row was about he found them trying, rather ineffectually, to murder each other. Gibbs forcibly separated them, shook them like a terrier with a couple of rats, and told them he'd thrash them himself if they didn't desist and get back to work immediately! They did, and when Jack came back from town some time later in the afternoon and saw them, and demanded to know just how Owens had managed to acquire a split lip and Charles a black eye, the boys were exceedingly grateful when Gibbs told Jack they'd just been 'playin' a bit rough' and there was naught to be concerned over. Jack eyed the two, narrowly, but said nothing more about it.

And, in the end, the Captain's wrath was mollified, and he was even moved to praise the work the boys had accomplished during the three days. Charles' hands were a mass of blisters, Owens's somewhat less so, but both of them were really very proud, for the _Black Pearl's_ brightwork fairly glowed.

"All right," said Jack. "You can have these last two days off to visit some more with the McGee boys. But mind yourselves, whelps, or I'll have each o' you regrettin' the day you were born."

They took him at his word, and spent the final days of their visit employed in comparatively harmless pursuits, fishing and hiking and skipping stones, practicing their fencing with great enthusiasm, and commiserating with the McGee brothers, who had not only endured their mother's righteous fury and three days of mucking out chicken coops and pigpens, but her handy way with a switch as well. Owens knew, and Charles finally realized that they had been very fortunate indeed. Charles' only remaining concern was that Jack might feel the need to inform his mother about his misbehavior on their return to St. Claire, but Owens dismissed this notion with such scorn that his fears were allayed.

Indeed, there was little evidence of lingering disapprobation in the Captain's manner. The slight rift between the two young miscreants had healed too, far more quickly than the split lip and black eye, and Charles Holliday's friendship with Michael Owens was now cemented firm and fast. As the Black Pearl left the shelter of Tortuga Bay and headed into the open water, back toward Lady Harry's island, there were few happier boys in existence than the two that stood together at the stern of the great ship, watching the dolphins leap and play in its wake.

-------------------------------

Several days later, Rachel came out of the house to shake out some dust cloths and saw Jack striding toward her across the wide courtyard from the direction of Pearl's Rest, alone. Her eyebrows rose, and she glanced briefly over her shoulder into the house, then just gave a slight, fatalistic shrug and turned to smile at him. "Captain!" she greeted him, with happy ease. "We didn't expect to see you today!"

His eyes glinted. "I'll wager ye didn't, from the look of you. Where's my lady?"

Rachel sighed. "She's up in your rooms, but don't you go gettin' upset with her now. She's feelin' fine, an' wanted to do a little straightening, but it turned into more work than she'd thought it would be."

"Bloody hell. Has she rested at all since I left?"

"Sure she has! Some."

"At night, in the wee hours, I suppose."

"Captain, Lady Margaret and I always try to get her to take a little nap after lunch, and she minds us most days. Truly!"

He gave a non-committal snort to this and strode into the house.

Rachel smiled crookedly and sighed.

Jack climbed the stairs silently, walked up the hallway to their bedroom and peeked in. There were piles of clothing all over the divan and the chaise longue, and heaps of their personal accessories on the floor.   
Harry herself, however, was in a most compromising position, and Jack smiled grimly. She was clad in some drawstring breeches and one of his own old linen shirts, and was down on her hands and knees with her head stuck under the bed, apparently sweeping at something with a brush or a broom. Quite irresistible. He shut the door silently.

As he approached on cat feet, she spoke. "Rachel! This wretched perfume bottle has rolled under the bed! If I can't reach it we'll have to get…_OW!_"

As she scuttled backwards he scolded, "And what did I tell you right before I left, my girl? More rest, less work, eh? And this is where I find you? Cleanin' under the bleedin' bed!"

But she pulled herself upright, swiftly if rather awkwardly, turned and attacked him with the broom, exclaiming, "You evil, _evil_ man! Beating the wife of your bosom, who is even now heavy with your child!" He backed away, laughing, but she followed, thoroughly riled, her cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed. "For _shame!_ You are a despicable knave! Only the _lowest_ _vermin_ would do such a thing!"

She punctuated the words with smacks from the broom, on his arm, his hip, his thigh, wherever she could reach; then she clipped his hand with it accidentally as he raised it to ward her off. Though it hadn't hurt much, he yelped as if it had, and she hesitated for a dismayed instant, as he'd known she would. It was enough. He grabbed the broom away from her, tossing it aside. As it clattered to the floor, several feet away, he caught her wrists.

"No!" she said, angrily.

"Yes!" he growled, eyes laughing, pinning her wrists behind her and holding them with one hand. "Not only disobeying a direct order, but stealin' me clothes as well!" He began to swiftly unbutton the shirt, ignoring her struggles.

"Stop that! I did not steal it! I _borrowed_ it!"

"Borrowed or stolen, what's the difference? You should be dressed in your silks and lace, and reclining on the chaise over there, shouldn't you?"

"No, I shouldn't! I keep telling you: _I'm not ill! I'm having a baby!_ I never felt better in my life. Let me go!"

He finished the last button and shoved the shirt off her shoulders, leaving her naked from the waist up. The humor faded from his gaze, replaced by something quite different as he drank in the sight of her. He cupped one perfect breast in his hand, brushing his thumb over her nipple.

She had stilled, with a little gasp, but said, resentfully, "You wicked, wicked man!"

"Wicked, is it?" He released her wrists and drew her against him, his fingers sliding over her bare skin.

"Yes," she said. She let the loose shirtsleeves slip off and put an arm about his waist, and pulled him down for a kiss with the other. He complied, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other slipping down the back of the loose breeches to caress her darling backside, smiling at her pleased murmur. The arm about his waist tightened. She moved her other hand between their bodies and began to fumble unhurriedly with the buttons on his own breeches. His breath caught, slightly. She moved her lips a fraction of an inch from his. "Did you lock the door?" she asked.

"No. The maids can get an eyeful if they like."

She kissed him again shaking with laughter, then said, again, "Wicked man!" and slid her hand inside the gap she'd unbuttoned.

It was a long while later when she again repeated the epithet, a sigh of sated pleasure this time, uttered just before drifting off to sleep. He lay a while, studying her face, his hand set softly against her rounded belly, alert to the occasional rippling movements of the baby. There were roses in her cheeks, from their lovemaking, but there were shadows under her eyes as well. Stubborn little fool! Perhaps her idea had not been such a bad one after all: maybe the only way to get her to rest would be to remove her from the plantation for a while. There was endless work begging for her attention on St. Claire, and, as the owner, she obviously felt a proprietary interest in overseeing everything, learning everything, and doing everything she could manage to do. If he took her to her brother's place, on the other hand…

Well, she'd want to give that ball to throw Lady Margaret and Norrington together. But, between the Governor's staff and the additional help of some of the Pearl's crew—he knew she'd want Anatole to oversee the dinner and refreshments, and Alphonse would be useful in a hundred different ways—she'd have only to give her orders. And he'd be there to see she kept to that, at least until the thing was over. And then there'd be naught for her to do but laze about in the gardens with Elizabeth and Lady Margaret, until it was time to return to St. Claire for her confinement.

And he supposed it wouldn't hurt to let her sink her claws into Norrington for a bit. A grim smile lifted the corner of Jack's mouth. Not that he wasn't a forgiving man. There had even been a touch of regret attached to the death of Barbossa, whose sin had been the ultimate betrayal and had taken Jack ten years of his life to set right. But certain of Jack's dealing's with the Commodore had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. Their first meeting, for example. _Worst pirate he'd ever heard of!_ Ha! Arrogant bastard. As usual, Jack had landed on his feet out of that adventure, but the remark still rankled, even so. No, it wouldn't hurt Norrington to have a bit of a run-in with Harry and her schemes. And if it worked out, as Harry thought it might, he'd actually have done the man a good turn. Something of which Jack could remind him in future, if the occasion demanded it.

Jack finally slipped from Harry's embrace and the warmth of the bed, and tucked her up a bit. She burrowed deeper into the pillow, but showed no other sign of waking. Quietly, he got cleaned up, dressed, picked up the broom and, with a last fond glance at his slumbering wife, left the room, closing the door behind him.

As Jack came down, he saw Giles Lightfoot seated in the little settle that sat against the wall at the foot of the stairs. The man stood and smiled at Jack, a knowing light in his eye.

"Lightfoot!" said Jack, "Have you been waiting long?"

"Oh, a while. Rachel told me you'd gone up to greet Lady Harry, so I knew I'd best be patient if I wanted to see you. One must prioritize one's duties, after all."

Jack's eyes glinted. "Indeed. Found her upstairs cleaning out closets, after I'd told her to leave such things to the servants. Had to take her to task a bit for that."

"Ah! Is _that_ what you were doing?" Lightfoot grinned.

Jack wondered if the man had heard more than Harry (or indeed he, himself) might have wanted. Jack looked half amused, half chagrinned. "Aye. Well. She seemed happy to see me."

Lightfoot nodded. "I well remember Mrs. Lightfoot being happy in just that way, when she was seven months along."

Jack lifted a brow. "Surprised me some," he admitted, in a quiet tone. "Considering a few months ago…"

"I know what you mean," said Giles. "It takes 'em that way, in the beginning. But after that…well, let's just say she's likely been missing your company a great deal when you're out on the _Pearl_."

"It seems so," Jack admitted. "I've just been thinking I need to spend a bit more time with her. She tries to do too much around here, and with that storm tearing the place up there's a lot to do. I'm going to take her to Port Royal, to stay with her brother for a bit. She's been wanting to take Lady Margaret there, too, and introduce her to everyone."

"Why our plans coincide, then!" exclaimed Giles. "I'm going to Jamaica myself, at the invitation of one Eustace Greene—has a fine plantation, and some new thoughts on the distilling of rum. I was just going to ask if you and Lady Harry would like to meet him, too!"

"As long as we get to sample some of his rum," said Jack. "It sounds a good notion. Although St. Claire rum is already among the best!"

Giles nodded. "It didn't get that way without being open to fresh ideas about distilling, though. This Greene has connections on the mainland too, in nearly every colony. He produces more than we do, and will likely continue to do so, as he uses slave labor, which we won't be, now. It costs more to make it, but our rum is a step above most, and I'm thinking we can market it as something rare and special, and make up the difference."

"Aye, I feel you're right. Port Royal it is, then. When do you go?"

"My boy, Davis, and I will leave day after next on the _Bonny Lass_. Greene suggested coming toward the end of the month."

Jack nodded. "I think we can be ready to leave the day after that easy enough."

"And likely give us the go-by in that ship of yours! She's fast, that one is."

"None faster, in these waters," smiled Jack, and he glanced out the doors, toward the path that led to Pearl's Rest, where the other love of his life lay. As he looked, Owens and Charles came into view, loping across the courtyard, followed by Gibbs and O'Brien. O'Brien stopped to speak with Rachel, but the boys bounded up the veranda steps and into the house & Jack put a finger to his lips and motioned them to silence. Gibbs grinned as he walked in behind the pair.

"Lady Harry asleep, Jack? That was fast work!" He winked at his Captain, and added, "The Pearl's tied off right snug, and we stowed everything and swabbed her down."

"Good. 'Cause we're leavin' in three days."

"Leaving?" exclaimed Gibbs and the two boys in dismayed chorus, for they had all looked forward to spending some time on St. Claire, now that the work of cleaning up after the storm had nearly been completed.

Jack chuckled. "Aye, you lazy dogs, we'll be off to Port Royal. Captain's _wife's_ orders. Savvy?"


	7. A Hightoned and Fancy Todo

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's.

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**_Harry & the Pirate: Norrington's Choice  
_****  
VII. A High-toned and Fancy To-do**

The Governor's Mansion at Port Royal, Jamaica, lay picture perfect amid its manicured grounds as the sun sank slowly toward the ocean one beautiful evening, a month after the storm. The residence had taken little damage: a few trees had lost branches, and other debris had blown onto the grounds, but these had been swiftly attended to by the large staff of gardeners, and the household had resumed its peaceful, ordered existence once more, an atmosphere of which Beck, the Governor's butler, greatly approved. Therefore, on this particular evening, when there came a rather peremptory pounding of the knocker on the front door, the Butler allowed a very slight look of annoyance to pass over his features, for he and his underlings had just been preparing to sit down to a quiet supper in the kitchen at the back of the house. He excused himself, nodding to the Cook and the Housekeeper (the other Young Persons being beneath his notice), and walked sedately down the long hallways toward the foyer.

The pounding was repeated as he neared his destination, and he assumed his most forbidding manner, for who could be making such a noise other than persons of Low Breeding? However, when he finally did open the door he found he had been mistaken in this assumption.

"Hello, Beck! Not dead yet? Where is my brother?"

"He is dining with friends, madam…" Beck began, faintly, then moved aside, perforce, as Henrietta Sparrow, nee Swann, formerly Lady Fanshawe, Dowager Duchess of Wyndham, swept past him into the house. She was closely followed by a startling number of companions, including an elegant, fair-haired lady, a most superior-looking nursemaid, a great many lively but well-groomed children, and her new husband, the notorious pirate turned privateer, Captain Jack Sparrow, who, as Beck had reason to know, was the (natural) offspring of a peer of the realm. The Captain gave the butler a look of amused sympathy as the Governor's sister began to turn the household on its ear.

"Beck, this is my old friend, Lady Margaret Holliday, and her children, Charles, Suzanna, and Julietta and their nurse, Miss Maria. And this is Lilian Lightfoot—you know her father, Giles, I think. And this is Michael Owens, who is a member of my husband's crew. We shall all be staying some few weeks. I'm going to be giving a ball!"

"A _ball_, madam?" said Beck, more than a little taken aback. "Here?"

"Yes, of course here! Don't worry. Alphonse and Anatole are coming in a bit: they are helping Mr. Gibbs with the luggage. The children will stay in the old nursery wing, along with Miss Maria. Suzanna! You had better keep those kittens confined to the nursery as well: my brother has dreadful sneezing fits when he is exposed to cats—so tiresome of him!"

"Yes, ma'am!" said Miss Suzanna. The pretty little girl smiled up at Beck, keeping a firm hand on the lid of the basket she was carrying.

Lady Harry went on. "Lady Margaret will take the green room, and Captain Sparrow and I will take the blue. We will need guest quarters for Anatole and Alphonse as well. Is the maid, Estrella, still here with you?"

"She is, madam…"

"Good. I still have not acquired a dresser to replace Jeanette—rather absurd, when one considers my husband's increasing reliance on his valet!" Here she threw a fondly teasing look at the Captain, who gave her a threatening grimace in return. She smirked and continued, "But it cannot be helped: experienced lady's maids are a bit thin on the ground in the Caribbean."

"But madam…we had no word from Governor Swann of your coming!"

"Well, of course not! He doesn't know!"

"Doesn't know?" Beck stared at her, and at all the other…guests.

Lady Harry smiled. "No. But what possible objection could he have, after all? I daresay he will make a bit of a fuss—for show, you understand—but depend upon it, he will be most entertained by our presence, and will miss us excessively when we are all gone again. I can only stay a month, for I am approaching my confinement."

Beck, eyeing her beautifully dressed but obviously very pregnant person, said in an admirably controlled tone, "A month?"

Lady Harry shook her head. "You keep repeating what I say! A sure sign of senility, believe me, Beck. Now do go let the other servants know what is toward while I show Lady Margaret and the others where they will be staying. Come children! The nursery is upstairs, and such delightful rooms they are, too!"

Beck watched Lady Harry ascend the stairs, the pack of children, Lady Margaret and Nurse Maria trailing in her wake. Then he jumped, startled, as Captain Sparrow clapped a comforting hand to his shoulder.

"Once more into the breach, eh, Beck?" said the Captain, favoring him with a grin of pearl and gold.

Beck nodded. "Apparently so, sir."

------------------------------

"Good God! What the devil is all this? _BECK!_"

As predicted, Governor Swann began to 'fuss' as soon as he opened the door of his house later that evening. The luggage, which had arrived some time before, was in the process of being delivered to the proper rooms, but there were still a number of trunks, bandboxes, and various loose items scattered about in the foyer.

And, unfortunately, Charles Holliday and Michael Owens, who had been helping with the deliveries, had chosen this rather inopportune moment to return to the foyer by way of the slick and very steep banister railing.

"Whoa-ohhhhhhhahhhhhhowwwWWW!"

Becoming aware of the Governor's presence just too late, they nevertheless tried to halt their swift decent, and ended up falling in an ungraceful heap practically at his feet. They weren't much hurt, but they goggled up at him, and he goggled right back, momentarily bereft of speech.

And then, Lady Harry was there, standing in the doorway to the drawing room, and the boys breathed a sigh of relief.

Weatherby Swann had quite a different reaction, however.

"Harry! I might have known! What on earth is going on? What are you doing here?"

"But Weatherby!" she exclaimed, coming forward, "Are you not glad to see me? Your little sister, come particularly to visit you before her first confinement! For who can predict the future, and if we should ever meet again? I might _die_, you know!" She rolled her eyes dramatically and held out her hands.

Swann's own eyes narrowed, but his lips quivered too. "Gammon, you minx," he said, gruffly, and took her hands, and kissed her cheek. "You would never succumb to something so ordinary. And of course I am glad to see you. At least…how long are you staying? And who are these young rascals?"

Harry addressed the rascals. "Up lads, and make your bows! Weatherby, you must remember Michael Owens, our Cabin Boy? He was at our wedding, you know. And this sprig of the nobility is Charles Holliday, eldest child of Lady Margaret Holliday! My old friend, Maggie! You used to treat us to carriage rides and high tea at that beautiful inn near the school!"

"Ah, yes. Maggie. So this is her son!" He stifled a smile as Charles bowed formally, Owens following suit a little more awkwardly. "I am pleased to meet you, young Charles, and to see you again, Owens. But please refrain from further banister-sliding!"

"Yes sir," the boys said together.

Harry said, "Be off with you now, and finish your tasks while I coerce and cajole my brother. Come into the drawing room, Weatherby! You must see what else Jack brought me from the _Pearl's_ last raid!"

Swann followed his sister into his drawing room. "What do you mean, what else? You cannot mean the Hollidays! And where is your husband, by the way?"

"He is gone back to the _Pearl_ for a bit with Will, and yes, I do mean the Hollidays: they were traveling on a French ship and it took such damage in the fight that it sank! It must have been vastly exciting. I am sure he will tell you all about it. But look at this! A harpsichord!"

Weatherby's brows lifted at the sight of the gorgeous and very substantial instrument that now graced his drawing room. "So it is! And a very pretty one at that!" The governor looked at his sister suspiciously. "Just how long are you planning to stay with me, sister? And why do you feel the need to 'coerce and cajole' me?"

She lowered her voice conspiratorially, glancing toward the open doors through which they'd come, and said "A month or so, and I wish to give a ball, to introduce Maggie to Port Royal society, and to bring her to the notice of James Norrington!"

"A…a ball! Here?"

Harry said, impatiently, "You are as bad as Beck! Of course here! This house is eminently suited to such an entertainment!"

"That may be true, but whether I allow you to use it for such is the question."

"But what possible objection could you have? I shall pay for everything, and augment your staff sufficiently so that no one will be unduly inconvenienced. It will be an excellent social occasion for you to host. I doubt you entertain sufficiently, and as governor here you should!"

Swann frowned, knowing she had a point there. But still… "The house will be in turmoil for weeks! I cannot bring myself to contemplate allowing such an upheaval!"

Harry smiled, knowing from his petulant tone that she had won. "Nonsense. The ball will be in two weeks, and you will have nothing to do but choose what you will wear! Elizabeth and Maggie are to help me with the invitations tomorrow. And if the activity required to prepare the house becomes too much for you, you can always retire to the library with Jack and Will and have a drink of that lovely French brandy. Jack has brought you a case of it, as a gift."

"A bribe, more like!" her brother said, but looked pleased, nonetheless.

"Yes, of course it is a bribe, but it is still excellent stuff, even so. I have had Beck put out a bottle and some glasses and they are waiting for you in the library. Jack and Will shall return presently, and will no doubt be happy to join you."

Swann shook his head, a crooked smile on his face. "You have thought of everything, I take it."

"Of course!"

"But what's this about Norrington? He's at sea, you know. Took the _Dauntless_ out a week ago."

"I know! Elizabeth and Will told me, and that he is to return a few days before the ball! It is perfect! He will be so surprised to see Maggie—they knew each other when they were youngsters back in England, and Maggie is now a widow!"

"Playing matchmaker, Harry? I don't see Norrington offering for the mother of a half-grown lad!"

"_And_ two adorable little girls! Wait until you meet them!"

"Three children! Good God! Are they all here? And with Owens, that makes four!"

"There are five, for we have Lilian Lightfoot staying here too—she and little Suzanna Holliday have become fast friends."

"And don't forget the kittens!"

This remark was made by Jack, as he and Will came into the drawing room. Swann turned.

"Kittens!" said the Governor. "What are you talking about?"

Harry frowned at Jack. "I wasn't going to tell him about those! They are to stay in the nursery, after all!"

Jack shook his head. "Best give it to him all at once. It's his house. How are you, Governor? Harry driven you against the ropes yet?"

"She is certainly trying. Five children! And kittens! Harry, you know I am highly sensitive to cats!"

"Yes, I know!" said Harry with exaggerated patience. "That is why the kittens will be confined to the nursery for the duration of our stay."

"Unless they escape," put in Will, unhelpfully.

"Which kittens are wont to do," added Jack.

"Precisely!" agreed Swann.

"_They will not escape!_" Harry glared at the three men. "The children will take care of the kittens, and will be on their best behavior, all the preparations for the ball will go smoothly, everything will go according to plan, and you three will take yourselves off to the library! _Now!_ " She made a visible effort to compose herself, and added, "I will play my piece on my harpsichord. It will calm my shattered nerves."

"Oh, Lord!" said Jack, and elbowed his brother-in-law gently, "We'd best go. She's quite out o' practice on that thing. Talk about shattered nerves!"

Watching Harry look about for something to throw at Jack, Weatherby gave a slight snort of laughter, and said, "Very well. I'll concede the first round. But if the kittens cross my path during your stay, I'll drown 'em, and so you may tell those children! Come lads. I want to sample some of that brandy you brought me!"

Harry, somewhat mollified, watched her brother leave the room, followed by Will, and then by Jack, who turned to blow her a kiss before pointedly shutting the doors.

--------------------------------

The preparations for the ball did indeed throw the house into turmoil, but it was a well-controlled sort, thanks to the organizational abilities of the former Dowager Duchess who, if she had done little else to please the Duke, had learned to be the perfect hostess when he was still above ground and able to participate in the social whirl of the haute ton. After he had 'cocked up his heels' and her year of mourning had expired, she had resumed entertaining with unabated enthusiasm, regularly giving all manner of small parties, and helping the new Duchess with larger affairs as well. Harry was therefore well versed in the tasks associated with holding such events, and once her brother had reconciled himself to the presence of the many unexpected guests ("_Children!_ And _cats_, for God's sake, Harry!") and to enduring the upheaval necessitated by his sister's plans, he shrugged philosophically and simply retired to the library, as she had suggested, whenever it all became too much to bear with equanimity.

He was seated there a week later, with Will, Giles Lightfoot, and Jack, eyeing the latter with some amusement.

"My advice is: don't worry about her! She's in her element, Sparrow—loves this sort of thing, just as our Mother did. She's very like her you know. Mother looked a delicate little flower, but she was tough as nails, give you my word."

"Tough as nails?" Jack said, cynically, "She left Harry motherless before she'd left the nursery, didn't she?"

"Didn't Harry tell you how she died?" asked Swann, surprised. "Our father gave mother a light gig for her birthday and she was racing it and the thing overturned. Could've happened to anyone!"

"Racing it!"

"Aye ! Against father himself, no less. Broke his heart. Didn't hang on above two years after she passed. Blamed himself, rather, but just being without her did him in, I think. They'd known and loved each other from childhood! Quite a romance. And, as I said, Harry's just like her: a pretty creature, but hardy, and devilish headstrong."

"Runs in the family," said Will, sounding morose but with a telltale glint in his eye.

Jack groaned and shook his head in half-serious dismay.

"Aye, lad," said Giles, with exaggerated sympathy in his voice, " You're thinking fondly of your carefree bachelor days, when all you had to think about was fightin' the undead to get your ship back!"

"And escaping Norrington's clutches," put in Will, grinning.

"Ah, yes. Norrington." Jack smiled grimly at his three companions. "It'll be worth all this, I think, if Harry's plans for the lad come to pass."

Swann chuckled. "I don't know. Can't see it myself, but then…well, it's Harry, you know. And Lady Margaret does have many virtues that might compensate for the three children."

"That she does," agreed Jack. "She's getting near as pretty as Harry, now that she's on dry land again. Anatole's been tryin' to fatten her up a bit, to the benefit of all of us as you've likely noticed."

"Your cook is amazing!" the Governor exclaimed. "And the menu he has devised for the ball! That alone makes all this bother worthwhile. I've a mind to make him an offer to stay here!"

"God's teeth, don't be doin' that: I already pay 'im a bloody fortune. The counteroffer would break me!"

Swann chuckled. "Well, in the interest of family harmony, I'll refrain. My own cook has been with the family since Elizabeth was a baby. I just hope she absorbs some of Anatole's genius while he is here."

Just then, the library door opened and Elizabeth came in.

Giles said, appreciatively, "Ah! The beautiful Mrs. Turner! Come to join us in a brandy, my dear?"

Elizabeth smiled at the compliment, and went to her husband. "Just a sip of Will's!" she said, and took the glass that he offered with a smile and a lingering touch of his fingers on hers. She took a sip of the amber liquid, and sighed with satisfaction. "Oh, that is good! So sad that it is illegal now and must be smuggled in."

"Nonsense!" said her father. "Spoils of war! Eh, Sparrow?"

"Aye. Although I hadn't my Letter of Marque yet when I took this stuff. It was before your wedding, _Niece_!"

"So it was, _Uncle Jack_!" teased Elizabeth. "I still can't believe we are related! _My Uncle, the Pirate_. Do you know, we have already had over a hundred people accept our invitation to the ball? And I've no doubt it's just as Aunt says: they all want to come and meet _you_!"

Jack grimaced slightly. "I'll have to put on quite the performance then, won't I?"

Will chuckled. "That shouldn't be difficult for you. After all, you're…"

"_Captain Jack Sparrow!_" they all chorused, laughing.

Jack grinned, and sipped his brandy.

----------------------------

Ultimately, there were nearly two hundred guests, from Port Royal and from all over the rest of Jamaica, making the event "a shocking squeeze!" – a great accolade, Harry assured her husband. And Jack did put on a most excellent performance the evening of the ball. Alphonse had groomed him with excruciating thoroughness, and the picture he made, standing with his beautiful wife as they greeted the guests, would not soon be forgotten by any of the attendees. After everyone had arrived, the two of them began the ball with a Minuet (which Alphonse had painstaking taught Jack at Harry's insistence), and then Jack was free for the evening, for his wife said it would be unseemly for her to dance more than these few stately measures, as pregnant as she was. Rejoicing in this reprieve, Jack proceeded to flirt outrageously with nearly every female that crossed his path before finally repairing to the card room to make inroads on the French brandy, and fleece his eager opponents (but with such skill that they were nearly knocking their heads together in a low-voiced debate over the likelihood of him cheating in the Governor's own house).

Harry, in the meantime, was truly "in her element", playing hostess with great and seemingly tireless aplomb. She took care of everything: finding partners for neglected young ladies; very subtly taking the wind out of any matron foolish enough to display disapproval or condescension toward herself or her family; indulging in lively and sharp-witted conversation with various plantation owners, politicos, and naval officers; and even remembering to send plates of delicacies from Anatole's spectacular midnight buffet supper up to the children, for, except for Julietta, they were so excited they could not sleep at all, and spent a great deal of time sneaking out to peek through the stair railings at all the guests in their finery, and to listen to the music that wafted from the ballroom.

In fact there was only one aspect of the proceedings that marred Harry's complete enjoyment of the evening: the failure of Maggie and Norrington to cooperate with her Plan. Every element was in place: Maggie was in good health and spirits, and was stunningly beautiful in a gown of pale green silk with emeralds at her throat, her pale hair done up very prettily by Estrella; and Norrington, returned from his voyage just two days prior to the ball, was looking his best in his most formal uniform, the very picture of what a Commodore should be. Maggie's presence would be a complete surprise to him, and, though Maggie knew the Commodore was coming, Harry felt sure her friend would be quite amazed at what a fine man the rather awkward, gangly youth had become over the many years since they'd last met.

To be sure, Maggie had not seemed very anxious to meet Norrington again. Harry had discounted this apparent reluctance, for she had no doubt that when the two finally met, sparks would fly. And they did. But they were the wrong kind.

"Commodore!" said Harry, firmly suppressing the urge to jump up and down like a schoolgirl, "It is so good to see you! I trust your voyage went as expected? May I reintroduce you to a mutual friend: Lady Margaret Holliday."

"How do you…do." The pleasant smile on Norrington's face faded, and Harry was startled to see that he was growing a little pale as he finally recognized Maggie. He reverted to his usual bland expression, although there was a faintly grim look about his mouth

As for Maggie, to Harry's surprise her friend's smile had also disappeared, and she straightened her shoulders a little, tilted her chin very slightly, and blushed hotly as she held out her hand. "Very well, I'm sure, James. I am happy to see you again."

Norrington took her hand, and held it just the fraction of a moment too long as he replied, "And I you, Margaret."

But they were not happy. Norrington let the hand drop, bowed to Harry and Jack and the Governor, and moved off into the crowd to make way for the next guests.

The tension of Speculation was palpable amid the three, but they carried on without missing a beat until the last of the guests had been greeted. Then Maggie's hand was claimed, and Jack drew Harry onto the dance floor to open the proceedings.

Governor Swann observed that Lady Margaret had a great many distinguished dancing partners during the evening, but none of those partners was James Norrington. She did not lack company at supper either, but Norrington was not among the chosen, for he had already taken his leave.


	8. After The Ball

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's, except for the original characters.

**Harry and the Pirate: _Norrington's Choice_******

**VIII. After the Ball**

After the ball is over, after the break of morn,  
After the dancers' leaving, after the stars are gone:  
Many a heart is aching, if you could read them all;  
Many the hopes that have vanished, after the ball.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Well, that didn't go as planned," observed Jack, as he closed the bedroom door.

It was very late. So late it was early, actually. Alphonse and Estrella had been told not to wait up. Harry stopped, wearily, in the middle of the room, a slight frown on her face at Jack's articulation of her thought.

"No," she agreed. "They were most uncooperative, were they not?" She heard his footsteps behind her and turned to face him, but his fingers fluttered, motioning her around again. Her expression lightened as she felt the fingers at her back, deftly undoing the laces of the elegant dress. "I wonder what can have happened?" she mused. "I shall have to question Maggie in the morning. Discretely, of course."

"Maybe the Commodore will be moved to confide in me," Jack said, his tone indicating his doubt of the possibility of such an occurrence. "I'm to go to him at Fort Charles by noon to bring 'im the tithe the _Pearl_ owes the crown."

She nodded. "I cannot think it likely. His reserve would preclude such a display of feeling I think, for it is obviously something quite serious in nature. Still, I find it encouraging that there _is_ such strong feeling between them. I've no doubt it can be turned to good purpose. This is only a very small setback."

He chuckled. "Ever the optimist, ain't you?"

"Not at all! I am a realist. I have found that one's goals are usually attainable if one will only demonstrate a little perseverance and fortitude."

"So they'll be dragged together, willy-nilly, eh?"

She chuckled now. "I told you I'd quite decided on it, did I not?"  After another moment she sighed, happily, as he pushed the dress from her shoulders. "Oh! It feels so _good_ to get this off!" She slipped her arms out of the sleeves and the dress fell and pooled around her ankles, leaving her clad only in her black pearls.

"You're naked!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Where's your chemise?"

She turned around and began to unbutton his waistcoat, saying, "It was too hot to wear a chemise. I've been suffering from the heat more lately. I think it's the baby."

"Mmm. Naughty Young Sparrow." Unable to resist, his hands moved over her, feather light, while she worked. "You might have told me!" he complained. "Would've made the evening that much more interesting."

"You didn't seem to be having a dull time. If I had told you, you would have been hovering about, and I wanted you to mingle with the guests!"

"You're likely right."

When she'd finished, he shrugged off his coat and waistcoat, and while he did so, she stepped out of her dress, picked it up and walked over to lay it neatly on the chaise longue, along with her beautiful string of pearls. He followed, the coat and waistcoat joining the dress and pearls, as did the rest of his clothing, piece by piece. Harry climbed into bed, and watched him from the comfort of the cool sheets. She smiled, happily, eyes bright with lascivious appreciation, when he came to her.

He blew out the branch of candles and got into bed himself, laughing again as she reached for him. "You wanton! It's near dawn!" But he kissed her.

After a little, she said softly, "This is the happiness I want for Maggie and James."

"You're a generous woman, Mrs. Sparrow," her husband murmured against her ear, "but I think we've had enough of _Maggie and James_ for tonight. Now it's time for _Harry and Jack_. Savvy?"

-------------------------

In spite of having finally gone to sleep only as the first faint light of the new day was peeking through the slight gap in the drapes, Jack was up and dressed and ready to go out by eleven.  Owens and Charles were to go with him.

"Still feels a bit odd, walkin' into that fort," Jack confided to Gibbs, whom he'd met in the foyer of the great house. "The whelps'll give all those lobsterbacks something to look at besides me fair self."

"'Odd'!" exclaimed Gibbs, "I'd think so, considerin' they came within a hair's breadth o' hangin' ye not so long since!"

"Aye. Or a _sword's_ breadth, as it were. Don't s'pose you'd want to go?"

"I'd like nothin' better in life than to visit Fort Charles with ye," Gibbs said facetiously, "only I've a previous engagement." He nodded at the stairway, which all five children were now seen (and heard!) to be descending, followed by Nurse Maria, who was clad in a simple, summery gown, the material of which was dotted in a pattern of pink roses. Gibbs told Jack, "We're walkin' the little girls down to the beach, to take the air an' a bite o' the luncheon Anatole's made for us."

Jack grinned at this, and turned to the Nurse, whom he had never seen in any but the plainest, most professional of gowns. He said, with a sly smile, "Good morrow, ma'am. May I say that's an unusually pretty frock!"

Charles Holliday grinned, and said in a loud whisper, "Maria's got a _beau!_"

The Nurse, coloring, cleared her throat pointedly and glared a little at the Hope of the Family. She said coolly, "Thank you, Captain. I try always to present a neat appearance."

"Oh, ye do, of course!" Jack agreed, eyelids drooping, "But you'll forgive me if I say the roses on that dress are a lovely match for those in yer cheeks."

Maria nearly gasped at this, and colored even more hotly, and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"All right, Jack, yer as bad as this young heathen. Leave off puttin' the lady to the blush. It ain't well done of ye, and ye know it."

Jack put a contrite expression on his face, and his hands together as he bowed slightly. "Apologies!" he said to Maria, who merely sniffed. Suppressing a smile, Jack turned to the boys. "Ready to visit the fort, lads?"

"Aye!" they both exclaimed together, eagerly.

"Will they be wearing their uniforms?" Charles asked.

"Oh, aye. Not a doubt of it," said Jack, directing a grimace to Gibbs. "Let's go."

Governor Swann had acquiesced to the use of his carriage on this occasion, and the three piled in. They drove first down to the docks, where Jack's heart swelled at the sight of his beautiful ship. The _Black Pearl_ fairly glowed, for Jack had kept his men busy cleaning and painting while they were tied by the heels in Port Royal. The citizenry of the town were beginning to trust his crew, and there were a few select establishments near the waterfront that the men frequented during their off hours, but the Captain felt that the relationship, if it was to be a lasting one, must be built slowly, a step at a time. Now that the ball was over, however, they would be taking the great ship out again.

"Will we be goin' 'round to Ocho Rios soon, Captain?" asked O'Brien. "A fortnight's a long time to spend powdering and primping even _this_ fine lady!"

"We'll be leavin' in two or three days. Will Turner's going, too, an' maybe me brother-in-law, if I can talk him into it."

"The Governor!"

"Aye. It'll give him a chance to relax after the exigencies of the ball. And Harry's to stay here with Lady Margaret and Mrs. Turner. She and the Governor will both like havin' a bit of a holiday from each other. You have that chest of gold ready for me?"

It was ready, and presently Jack and "the whelps" were on their way again, to Fort Charles.

"Named for me!" laughed Charles Holliday.

Jack laughed too. "Well, you're a _Merry Monarch_, but only in your mother's eyes, lad!"

Some time later, Jack, firmly suppressing thoughts of his near-hanging, found that his plan had worked perfectly: the marines on duty at the fort had eyes and smiles mostly for his two young companions, although the youngsters' presence apparently caused the redcoats to view himself in a more kindly light as well. The boys looked around, very impressed and interested in everything, although Owens, having heard about Jack's close shave, was much warier than Charles, who considered the expedition an unadulterated delight. And when they were ushered into the Commodore's office, followed by two marines carrying the chest of gold, Charles's eyes were like saucers at the sight of the tall, handsome officer.

Norrington, for his part, dismissed the marines, and greeted his guests with a slight bow. Jack noticed the Commodore was polite enough to himself and Owens, but that his eyes lingered on the fair-haired son of his old friend. If 'friend' was the right word…

"You are the son of Lady Margaret Holliday, are you not?" said the Commodore, his face calm, but his eyes reflecting some inner turmoil that hinted of both pain and longing. Jack's brows quirked in curiosity.

"Yes, sir," said Charles. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir! Do you know my mother, then?"

"Yes. I know her. We are…we have known each other since we were not much older than you are now. But it has been a very long time, since last we met."

Jack said, carefully, "Harry wanted to surprise you—thought you'd be pleased to see the lady."

Norrington looked at Jack, and only the slightest hint of a frown touched his lips. But there was no derision in the pirate's eyes, and Norrington nodded. "I _was_ pleased. And surprised." He straightened, clearing his throat. "You've brought the tithe I see."

"Aye," said Jack, reaching into an inner coat pocket for a sheaf of papers. "I've receipts and such, if you'd like to go over 'em?"

While they conducted their business, Owens and Charles looked around the office. It was sparsely decorated, but there were a few paintings, mostly of ships and the sea, a case of books, which included classics as well as volumes on various aspects of warfare and military life, and there were some beautiful weapons laying about, including the Commodore's prized Turner sword. Charles looked it over, closely, where it lay in its scabbard, and ran a finger lightly over the gold filigree on the hilt.

"Like the sword?"

Charles straightened with a start, and turned to the Commodore, who was watching him from where he stood behind his desk. "Yes, sir! It's beautiful!"

After a slight hesitation, Norrington said to Jack, "Excuse me a moment, Captain?"

Jack nodded, smiling a little.

The Commodore went over to where the two boys stood, picked up the sword and drew it from its scabbard, and was quite satisfied at their awed gasps and round eyes. "It was made by the Governor's son-in-law, William Turner," he told them. "I've rarely seen a finer blade in my life."

"Will made _that_?" Owens asked Jack. He had been told that Will was a blacksmith, and a maker of fine swords, but the reality of it had not been born in upon him until now.

"Aye," said Jack, with a grin. "That and a cartload more. Came near to skewerin' me with a couple of 'em, first time we met!"

Norrington nodded. "He's a fine swordsman. I've practiced with him a time or two in the last year."

"Not as fine as Captain Sparrow!" said Owens, stoutly.

Jack laughed. "Well, I can hold my own against him, but whether I can beat him in a fair fight is a matter of considerable debate. Now, an _un_fair fight, on the other hand…!"

"An _un_fair fight!" said Charles, a little shocked. "You mean, ignore the Rules of Engagement?"

Jack grinned, and shrugged. "_Pirate!_"

The Commodore laughed then, amused at both Jack's pretense of an apologetic excuse, and at Charles's look of outrage. He said, "There are times, Master Holliday, when one must set aside the Rules of Engagement if one wishes to live to see another day."

"Oh." Charles looked a little confused and chagrinned.

"Captain Sparrow has been teaching us," said Owens, his eyes bright with thanks and pride as he looked at Jack.

"Has he, indeed?" said the Commodore. "I have not yet seen him fight with a sword, but I understand from Mr. Turner that he is very skilled. You are fortunate to have him for your mentor."

"Sir!" exclaimed Charles, suddenly struck with what he considered to be a brilliant notion. "Why don't you come for dinner tonight and bring your sword and we can watch you fight with Captain Sparrow! Practice, I mean. And Mr. Turner, too!"

The Commodore didn't reply for a moment, and Jack was sure that his mouth would have been agape had he been a lesser man. As it was, a startled look came into his eyes, and was barely controlled as he turned his gaze to Jack. Jack, who had been counted his enemy not so long since. Jack, who was presently residing in the same house with Lady Margaret, with whom the Commodore had had some sort of difficult experience in the past.

But Jack said, easily, "That's not a bad notion, Commodore! It would be a rare privilege. And you missed supper last night. Anatole, me cook, really extended himself: everyone was remarkin' on it. He's doin' the honors again tonight, so you'd best come. Best victuals this side o' Heaven, give ye me word!"

The Commodore almost smiled. "Do you think they _have_ victuals in Heaven?" he mused.

"Well, if they don't I ain't goin'!" said Jack. "Not that I want to end up in the other place, mind you: too many old acquaintances there, like as not. P'raps I'll turn papist—they've purgatory to fall back on." The Commodore was actually chuckling at this, and Jack grinned.

Charles begged, "Oh, do say you'll come, sir!"

After another moment's hesitation, the Commodore replied, "How can I refuse in the face of such kind entreaties?"

"And you'll bring your sword?" Charles said eagerly.

The Commodore said, "I'm not sure fencing practice would be a suitable prelude to dinner."

"'Course it would!" Jack exclaimed. "Just bring an extra shirt. Will an' I'll put you through your paces, an' then we can all change for dinner."

A slow, genuine smile lit Norrington's face. "All right. I'll ride over when I'm off duty, later this afternoon."

"Excellent!" Jack smiled too, but somehow he got the feeling that this was something unusual for the Commodore. That he had few, if any, close friends. And that he was lonely.

A little while later, when business had been concluded and they were about to take their leave, Charles startled Jack by saying to the Commodore, "Please sir, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you take us on a tour of the fort before we go?" Seeing the Commodore glance at Jack, and his slight frown upon doing so, the boy added, "If you don't have time, I'll quite understand, but it would be jolly if you could!"

But Norrington's frown had been in consideration of Jack's sensibilities. Jack was rather disturbed that he had been so easy for the man to read, but indeed he had no desire to linger at the fort: he already had an uncomfortably intimate acquaintance with it. Norrington said to Charles, thoughtfully, "I expect Captain Sparrow has other business this afternoon, but how would it be if _you_ were to stay with me. And Master Owens, too, if he likes. I can show you 'round the fort, and then bring you with me to the Governor's house later, in time for dinner."

Owens politely declined the treat, but Charles was ecstatic. Jack said to Norrington, "You'll keep a sharp eye on 'im, Commodore? He's a right one, but he likes to kick up a lark now an' again. I could tell you some tales, and I've only known 'im a short time."

Charles looked a little conscious at this, but Norrington lifted a brow and murmured, "Pots versus kettles, Captain?", then permitted himself a slight smirk as Jack stiffened almost imperceptibly. But the Commodore continued smoothly, "You've no need to worry. I know how to deal with young men who've more nerve than sense."

Jack nodded and gave a reluctant grin. "I suppose ye do at that." He winked at Charles, but wisely forbore to say anything further on the subject before taking his leave with Owens.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry had stirred enough to return the kiss Jack had given her before he'd gone downstairs that morning but had fallen back asleep almost immediately. When she did finally waken again it was near noon. She did not rise, but lay, languidly studying the beautiful pattern of the tapestry cloth that made up the canopy over the bed, and enjoying the luxury of doing nothing for a change. She would not admit it to Jack, of course, but the last two weeks had been a little tiring, and she was quite looking forward to resting here at her brother's house for another week while the men went on their little sail 'round the island to visit Eustace Greene's plantation and distillery. Jack had refused to go overland: he was a good rider, but did not enjoy it much as he did it so seldom. And Maggie, of course, did not want to sail any more than necessary. Harry had seized on this excuse and told Jack she would stay behind and bear her landlubber friend company. She did not think he suspected the real reason for remaining in Port Royal, although he had fixed her with a rather penetrating look and a slightly raised brow at the time. But he hadn't said anything, so all was well.

She was just beginning to think she should get up and ring for Estrella when there came a soft scratching at the door. It opened quietly before she could say anything, and Maggie peeked in.

"You are awake!" Maggie said.

As her friend entered, carrying a small, laden tray, Harry said, "Yes. I was just thinking of getting up. Oh, how lovely! Chocolate and fresh scones!" She struggled to sit up in the bed, mounding the pillows behind her, as her friend set the tray down and served out.

"Anatole made them especially for you: he is certainly devoted. After all the work of the ball, and still he rises early to cater to your whims."

"Yes, he is very indulgent. And Alphonse, too. It is a shame we are at war with the French again. Such nice people, for the most part. Though it has been of benefit to Jack. And to James Norrington, too. I daresay he will be an admiral before all is done."

Maggie took a sip of chocolate, peering over the rim of the cup at her friend and noting the rather sly look on her face.

Harry went on. "James has certainly grown to be a fine naval officer, has he not? So different from the shy, lanky young man we knew when we were girls."

Maggie smiled, a little sadly, thinking of it. She said, looking a little conscious, "I suppose I owe you an explanation."

Harry raised her brows in feigned inquiry.

Maggie pursed her lips and said, "Your innocent wiles are wasted on me, Harry. You invited James for my benefit, did you not?"

"Not at all! Well, partly. But indeed, Maggie, he attended our wedding, and is a very good friend of the family."

"I see."

"I was aware that you knew him, of course."

"Yes." Maggie looked down at her hands.

There was a pause. Then Harry sank back against the pillows and exclaimed, "Well, what is it? I am ready to expire from curiosity! What is between you?"

Lady Margaret laughed, and shook her head. "You are incorrigible. Very well, I shall tell you, but I would ask you not to spread the tale. It does not redound to my credit, unfortunately."

"But Maggie! You were always such a paragon: do not tell me I was mistaken in you, for I will not believe it. But, to be sure, I shall tell no one. Except Jack, of course, perhaps."

"Perhaps?" Maggie smiled.

"Yes, perhaps. Now tell me, if you please."

"Very well. It was after he received his commission. James was home, on leave, and we began meeting at some of the social events of the season. He…he conceived a…fondness for me, and began to pay court to me. And I'm afraid I encouraged him, somewhat. I did not realize how serious he was, perhaps, and he was only one of several, including Holliday. But indeed, looking back I realize I behaved very badly."

"So you thought it a flirtation. Why should you berate yourself for that?" asked Harry.

"Because the outcome was cataclysmic. Holliday…well, you know he was something of a rake. His attentions grew more and more marked as the season went on, and finally he…he…" She broke off, obviously agitated.

Harry's brows twitched together in a severe frown. "What, Maggie? Tell me! For your demeanor only leads me to suspect The Worst!"

Maggie laughed, shortly. "Not The Worst, but near enough. I foolishly went apart with him at a ball, and…well, he did not keep the line. I was a little agitated, and trying to get away when James walked in." Maggie shook her head, distressed at the memory. She said, sadly, "I will not bore you too much detail. There was a duel. Holliday chose pistols and deloped, and was shot in the shoulder: not a bad wound, but he wore a sling for a week or two, which made him an object of some interest. And aroused my sympathy. I had been half in love with him before, but knowing that he wanted me enough to forget himself at a ball and then seeing him like that, and discovering what had happened…"

Harry stared, suddenly aghast. "So you chose him over James?"

"I am afraid so."

"Oh, good God!" Harry exclaimed. "This is dreadful!"

Margaret looked a little puzzled. "But why, Harry? I mean, it is a little awkward meeting James now, but…"

"But now James has been _twice_ rejected by the object of his affection!" Harry shook her head. "This is going to be much more difficult than I had imagined."

"Twice? What do you mean?"

"Elizabeth!" And Harry proceeded to enlighten her friend, for though she had told Maggie something of the adventure of the Isla de Muerta, she had not spoken before of Elizabeth's broken engagement.

When Harry at last fell silent, Maggie put a hand to her cheek. "Oh, poor James!"

"Poor James, indeed," Harry agreed. "No wonder he was so shocked at seeing you there last night. Still, he will soon grow used to the idea, and will no doubt like to see you again. We must invite him to dinner."

Maggie laughed, though she shook her head. "Harry, you must be mad! Were you indeed thinking of playing matchmaker between us? I have three children, and have been widowed besides!"

"Yes, you are perfect for him!" said Harry, decisively. "You are even more beautiful than you were as a girl—give you my word, Maggie! And the children are delightful: he will find them vastly entertaining! Especially young Charles, who is just the right age for him."

"What if he is not perfect for _me_?"

"Is he not, Maggie?" Harry looked at her friend seriously, though her eyes smiled.

Maggie, her mind going back to the very favorable impressions she had of James from the previous night, choked a little.

Harry nodded. "You see I am right, as always. I do nothing without careful thought."

"You are the most impetuous woman I know!" Maggie objected.

"Impetuous, but careful. All will be well. You'll see!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry was extremely pleased with Jack when he returned to the house and informed her what had transpired at Fort Charles that morning.

"Oh, you darling!" she exclaimed, hugging him. "It could not be better! I need to ask Elizabeth if she knows what are James's favorite dishes so I can give some direction to Anatole. And Maggie should have a nap this afternoon, for I want her to be in her best looks."

"You had better have a nap too, Mrs. Sparrow," said Jack, smiling. "I know you've just about done yourself in with that ball, and don't try an' tell me different."

Harry kissed him again, and said, "Yes, well, I am perhaps a little tired, but when you leave day after tomorrow I will have nothing to do but stay abed or, at most, walk in the gardens or on the beach. But this news of James coming here for dinner has quite revived me for the moment. Everything must be perfect!"

Jack rolled his eyes as she hurried away.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Norrington and Charles arrived promptly at six and were allowed admission to the house by the staid Beck, although Owens, who had been loitering about for the last half hour, was also on hand to greet them.

Charles went to his friend, immediately. "Oh, you should have stayed! It was beyond anything great! We had luncheon with some of the other officers and they were all of them so easy and friendly you'd not credit it! And then the Commodore showed me all 'round the fort! I even saw the gaol, where Captain Sparrow was held!"

"As comfortable as ever, I'll wager," said Jack, coming into the foyer, followed by Will and the Governor.

Charles turned to him, a little chagrinned. "W-was it comfortable? It did not look to be so."

Owens was looking a little upset, but Jack winked at him and said to Charles, "Oh, it was more so than some I've been in. Leastways there's a view of the sea, an' they don't starve ye." The boys both goggled at him then looked at each other, silently agreeing to demand stories of the pirate captain as soon as the opportunity arose. But now Jack had turned to Norrington. "Commodore! We've been waiting for you! Still game for a bit of fencing practice?"

"Yes, certainly," said Norrington. "How do you do, Will? Governor?"

The Governor replied, "Excellently well, dear fellow! I must say it will be a treat to watch you three at practice. I doubt we shall have the whole house hanging out the windows to get a view. We've set up an area in the back garden. Shall we adjourn?"

Some chairs and a table with refreshing drinks had been set out on the lawn, the trees bordering the area providing comfortable shade as the sun sank toward the horizon.

"We've about an hour before the light goes," said Will. "Shall we draw straws to see who'll go first?"

Will picked the short straw and immediately chose the Commodore as his opponent. The Governor and Jack sat down in the comfortable chairs to watch, while the two boys sat cross-legged on the lawn just outside the combat area, to the detriment of their light-colored breeches. The Governor was correct about the general interest engendered by the unprecedented display of form and talent for as the two men removed their coats and picked up their swords, faces began appearing at windows. Norrington happened to glance up as he took his place opposite Will, and caught sight of Harry, Elizabeth and Maggie looking out the wide window of Harry's dressing room. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement, and Harry waved back enthusiastically, but it was Maggie's more hesitant gesture that drew Norrington's attention. And then the salute was given and the battle fairly joined, and James Norrington had perforce to give his full attention to the task at hand.

It was well that Norrington was disciplined enough to do this, for Will Turner was without doubt one of the finest swordsmen the Commodore had ever crossed a blade with. The boy had learnt the basics from the fort's fencing master, spending what little time and money Brown had allowed him on lessons. Laurence Grimby had charged him far less than he would have ordinarily, for he had seen talent in the lad from the start. After several years, however, there had come a point when old Grimby had to admit that the pupil had exceeded the master's skill. The gruff soldier had told Will he'd nothing more he could show him and he'd have to look further afield for worthy adversaries: would he not like to give up blacksmithing and wear the scarlet coat? He was sure something could be arranged. But as much as Will loved the art of the duello, he loved working the metal that made up the elegant weapons even more, and his skill in that area of endeavor was surpassing that of his master as well. So Will had continued practicing, on his own or with the occasional opponent, all of whom came into the fray with smug assurance and left shaking their heads in bemusement at the brilliance of the blacksmith's apprentice.

So it was with Norrington. He was a good swordsman himself, the finest at Fort Charles surely, but the first time he had agreed to a practice session with Will, a few weeks after the wedding, he had been made to look nohow, at least to begin with. So far from invoking his ire, however, it spurred him to greater effort, and he ended that first session with a win, though it had been a near thing. The second time the two had met, Norrington had been better prepared, having got some extra advice and practice from Grimby, yet in the end he could only boast success in two of their five matches that day.

Now, however, as they began their current encounter, Norrington fancied that Will was not up to his usual form. They were fairly evenly matched, at first, but gradually Norrington gained the upper hand and at last Will threw up his hands, acknowledging the hit the Commodore had got under his guard.

"You've improved! Or I'm out of practice. That shouldn't have got past me," said Will, with a smile.

"Nonsense," said the Commodore. "I daresay you were up half the night dancing with the beautiful Elizabeth! And up betimes, this morning."

Will nodded. "I have an order for a sword I'm trying to finish before we leave on Monday. The man lives in Ocho Rios and Jack said we could make the delivery before we ride up to the plantation."

"You are off to Ocho Rios?"

"Aye," said Jack, who'd got up and now picked up his sword. "We're going to visit Eustace Greene. He's a cane grower, and produces a fine rum from what I hear. He's agreed to meet with Giles and me and share some secrets, as well as some of his rum. We're sailing 'round on the Pearl, day after tomorrow." Jack hesitated, cocking his head, but then said smoothly, "You should take a few days off and come with us, Commodore. As a guest, that is: I wouldn't give up command of the Pearl even were you an admiral. But you'd be welcome, if you feel you could get away."

Swann got up, saying, "What a splendid idea! I've decided to go along as well, and if you were to join us it would add greatly to our enjoyment! We'll only be gone five days—surely the fort can do without you for such a short length of time?"

Norrington looked very surprised, and rather pleased. He said to Jack, "I must say I am very tempted to acquiesce to this scheme. I have not taken time off from my duties in over a year, and the expedition sounds most intriguing!"

"Don't even think of turning us down, then," grinned Jack. "Must cater to the whims of the Governor, after all, an' he wants you along!"

"Speaking of catering to whims, is your charming wife to be one of the company?"

Jack glanced up at the window, where Harry, who was leaning out, blew him a kiss. "No. She's a bit pulled by the bustle of the last couple o' weeks. The ladies are all stayin' behind. Between the three of 'em, Port Royal should be safe as houses."

Norrington laughed. "Do you think so, indeed? I myself would think it likely that we shall return to some sort of disaster! But perhaps all will be well, for she is nearly due to be confined, is she not?"

"Aye, it's back to St. Claire as soon as we've returned from our research expedition. An' she says she'll be layin' about the place, mostly, while we're gone, so no worries, eh? Now then: you ready for a real match with that pig-sticker?" Jack grinned at Will, for the sword Norrington was using was none other than that which the lad had made.

"Very ready!" Norrington replied, happily determined to avenge this epithet.   

Norrington began with some caution but soon abandoned this, for Jack was not only very nearly as good a swordsman as Will, but fought with a grace and unpredictable flamboyance that came from long experience and extremely varied encounters. He was a fascinating adversary, and would be a dangerous one, indeed, under other circumstances. The Commodore found himself stretched to the limits of his own abilities just to defend himself, and, although he managed to win the first of the three matches, he felt himself tiring so much toward the conclusion of the third that he was almost thankful when it ended, even though it resulted in a thin cut to the back of his wrist.

"Oh, Lord!" Jack said, a little dismayed by this slip. He set down his sword and stepped quickly over to see how badly he'd hit the Commodore.

But Norrington, panting, actually grinned and said, "It's nothing. A scratch only. What a swordsman you are, Sparrow! I can't remember when I've fought a more enjoyable match." However, he gave his wrist over to Jack willingly enough.

Jack looked at the wound closely. "No, just a scratch, as you say, but we'd best put something on it."

"It's nearly time for dinner, anyway," said the Governor. "Why don't you gentlemen step inside and get cleaned up, and we shall meet in the drawing room in half an hour's time."

The three combatants agreed to this, and took themselves off, accompanied by the enthusiastically jabbering Charles and the glowing Michael Owens, who resolved then and there to make himself worthy to be the protégé of such a master as Captain Jack Sparrow.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Harry, too, was extremely pleased with the outcome of the practice, gloating so outrageously that Elizabeth and Maggie could only be amused. And this was only the beginning of an evening that fully met Mrs. Sparrow's expectations.

Maggie looked lovely. She was dressed more simply than on the previous night, but the dress of lilac silk was very beautiful, suiting her tall, slim figure to perfection. She hardly looked changed from years back, except that there was a certain gravity in her bearing that had not been present in those far off days.

And James Norrington, who, on entering the drawing room, unconsciously looked about for her, and then found himself seated by her at dinner, realized she was almost the epitome of what he loved in women. More so than Elizabeth had, actually. He found it quite disturbing, especially considering their previous history together. But he could not help noticing an odd feeling niggling at him. He wondered if it was happiness.

Harry seemed quite subdued at dinner, though she smiled and watched everyone more closely than any of them but Jack realized. When she occasionally met Jack's eyes, however, the look in them was so quizzical it was all she could do not to burst out laughing, so she avoided doing so, except when he led the conversation and she could both look and laugh without arousing suspicion.

For Jack proved to be as excellent and interesting a dinner companion as he was a swordsman. Norrington was impressed with his ability to spout anecdotes that were both entertaining and approached but never crossed the line of what was acceptable at a gentleman's dinner table. He did not monopolize the conversation, but his occasional offerings set the tone and made it quite wickedly enjoyable. A man of many parts was Captain Sparrow. And the looks that frequently passed between the man and his adorably flighty wife satisfied Norrington further that his view of Jack as 'a good man' was a sound one. It made the Commodore very glad that the Letter of Marque precluded further efforts by the Navy to curtail the Captain's career, at least at present.

After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room while the men sipped brandy and discussed the projected outing to Ocho Rios and Eustace Greene's plantation. Norrington found himself very much looking forward to setting aside his uniform and wig and sometimes onerous authority, and spending a few days just being James Norrington, _bon vivant_. He had not done so in far too long, and the prospect made a little smile hover on his lips. And then, when the Governor finally suggested they join the ladies again, there was that odd little feeling at the thought of seeing Margaret again. The little smile lit his eyes then, as well.

She was seated a little away from the rest of the ladies when they walked in, and, after a moment's hesitation, James approached her. The others, thankfully, were drawn away toward the hostess, who kindly informed the company she would now entertain them by playing her piece on the harpsichord and would Jack please turn the pages for her? This last was stated in such a militant tone that everyone laughed, except, wisely, Jack, who sat down next to Harry on the little bench and obliged her by not only obeying her behest, but refraining from saying anything about her occasional hesitation or wrong note, for truly she was much improved from the first time he'd heard her play.

Lady Margaret, watching her friend interact with her husband in such a manner, could only laugh.

James said, "They are a most amusing couple, are they not?"

Margaret looked up at him, and colored slightly, but said, still smiling, "Oh, they were made for each other, indeed! But do sit down, James."

"Thank you," he said, doing so. Looking a little conscious, he said, "I feel I must apologize for my behavior last night. It was something of a shock, seeing you standing there. But that is a poor excuse for incivility."

"You were not uncivil," Margaret said gently. "Harry thought to surprise you, and so she did, but she did not know…that is…she knew only that we were old friends."

"Yes. Old friends," said Norrington, the smile fading a little. "I understand you are now a widow."

"Yes. It has not been a year yet, but I have put off my grey and moved on to lavender for this occasion. Quite shocking, is it not?"

"It is a beautiful dress," Norrington said, "made for a beautiful woman."

"James!" Margaret said, rather startled.

But Norrington shrugged slightly, and turned his eyes toward the harpsichord tableau briefly, before looking at Margaret again. "It is the truth. Why try to deny it? I thought so then, and it is so now: more beautiful than ever. Were you happy, Margaret?"

Margaret flushed and now she, too, looked over at the harpsichord player and page-turner. "I…," she began, then broke off, at a loss, for she could hardly tell him the whole truth. She finally looked back at him and found him looking a little concerned at her reticence. "Yes," she said. "I was happy, for the most part. And I could not regret it, for I have my children, who mean the world to me. But…" She broke off again, and lowered her gaze briefly before concluding, "I am afraid you were right about Holliday, James."

He stared at her, knowing exactly what this meant, and there was both anger and sorrow in his eyes, though his expression was as controlled as always.

Margaret nodded. "I just thought you should know."

Her eyes were suspiciously bright as she turned her gaze back to where Harry and Jack were performing, and when she briefly felt the warmth of his hand on hers where it lay on her knee, she found it necessary to bite her lip, surreptitiously, and brush a finger of the other hand against the corner of one eye.

James stayed, sitting beside her, for a long time.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Mrs. Sparrow, Governor, Captain: it has been a great pleasure," said James. He looked a little solemn, considering the lively conversation and impromptu card game that had taken place after Harry had given up trying to play her instrument, but the hostess considered this a good sign, for she had taken note of the way he'd hovered around her friend, and the look in their eyes as they had said good night earlier, before Maggie, pleading fatigue, had taken herself off to bed.

"James, you must come again soon. Perhaps when you men return from visiting Mr. Greene we can have another dinner party before Jack takes me back to St. Claire. You have been a most delightful guest."

"I thank you. I will very much look forward to it. Good night."

Harry watched demurely as the Commodore made his little bow, and went out to where his carriage waited. And as soon as Beck shut the door, Harry turned and with a little ecstatic cry of "Yes!" threw her arms around Jack and kissed him. He laughed under the kiss, and the Governor shook his head, with a crooked smile.


	9. Al Fresco Interlude

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's, except for the original characters.

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****** Harry and the Pirate: _Norrington's Choice_**

******IX. Al Fresco Interlude**

Suzanna Jane Holliday was not pretty. She knew it for a fact, for her father had said as much. It was two years ago, when she was about to turn eight, and she had come in with Charles from playing, her dress torn and a smudge on her face.

"Disgraceful!" Father had said, laughing. "Look at her Maggie! What a Long Meg, all legs and eyes and freckles. And dirty as any street urchin!"

Her Mother, seeing how hurt she had been, remonstrated with Father, and he had laughed, insisting it was a jest. But he had not taken back the words, or told her any different, so she knew it was true.

Charles had found her crying over it, several days later. She had been looking in Mother's mirror, the gold-framed one that used to be in her dressing room and was now packed away among their things back on St. Claire Island. The freckles had been all too obvious, sprinkled over the bridge of her nose, giving testament to her love of playing outdoors in the sun and to her dislike of hats. And the eyes. Watery blue, with tears just at that present. And the mouth, twisted in a tragic line.

"What the devil's wrong, Sue?" her brother had demanded, and then laughed (just like father!) when she had told him. Charles had said, "Don't be daft! You look just like mother did—everyone says so!"

"I d-do not. Mother is lovely!"

"Well, so will you be, stupid. Unless your face freezes like that!"

She had wailed then, until Maria had come in with useless words of comfort and only the mildest scold for Charles, for he was ever her favorite.

And he was still the greatest beast in nature, two years later. He had told Michael Owens, "Sue thinks she's ugly. Silly chit!" when they had come across her and Lilian Lightfoot playing in Mother's dressing room at Island House a few weeks ago.

"I think she's very pretty," Owens had said, stoutly. Suzanna loved Owens. He had turned bright red after saying it, of course, and Charles had teased him unmercifully for days (the horrid wretch!), but Owens had endured it with a good grace and continued treating her to his usual civility and shy smile. Yes, she loved Michael Owens.

Not, of course, as much as she loved Captain Sparrow. She had been enthralled, right from the first, with the Captain's eccentric ways and strange beauty. For he was beautiful. An odd thing to say of a man, but it was true for all that. The way he moved. His voice, and the way he spoke. And his face, of course: his smile, and his great dark eyes that were so expressive. And he was so kind, and funny, too. He told them stories, and did magic with coins and cards, and he loved Julietta and made Charles behave, and treated Lilian and herself like young ladies, and Mother with great respect and Lady Harry…well, Lady Harry was truly the most fortunate of women, that's all. She and Lilian had spoken of it, and had agreed. Indeed, sometimes it was hard to remember that the Captain was a pirate. But then one only had to recall the look in his eyes back on the day he and his crew had taken and sunk the _Vaillant_. Suzanna gave a little shudder, thinking of it.

And now there was Commodore Norrington to love, too.

She had met him a few days ago, the day before the men had left on the _Black_ _Pearl_ to sail 'round the island. He had come up in the late afternoon, rather earlier than on the previous day, not for dinner but to discuss some details of his prospective journey with the men. At least, that was what he had said. Suzanna privately suspected he had come to see her Mother! The ladies—Mother and Lady Harry, and herself—had taken tea at the Turner's cottage, which overlooked the sea and had the most delightful garden, smaller and less formal than the one at the mansion. They had just returned from this outing and were going up the steps to the door when the Commodore had come riding through the gate below, looking quite magnificent on a fine bay horse. Suzanna had glanced at Mother and Lady Harry to comment on this and caught the oddest look passing between them: her Mother was actually blushing, and Lady Harry looked as though she were about to burst out laughing, her eyes bright, and one brow raised in some silent communication. Mother had shaken her head slightly, then noticed her daughter staring and cleared her throat. "My dear, I shall introduce you to my old friend, Commodore Norrington," Mother had said. By the time the Commodore had ridden up the drive and dismounted, Mother had regained her composure and her complexion, though there had been a look about her…she _liked_ the Commodore, Suzanna thought.

Lady Harry had said, "James! What a delightful surprise!"

The Commodore had taken off his hat and bowed. "You must forgive my intrusion. I had some questions about our journey and, as we leave in the morning, I thought it best to ride up and have a short discussion with your husband and the Governor."

As he had spoken his eyes had strayed to Mother's face, and had briefly taken in her own, too.

Mother said, "James, you must let me introduce my daughter, Suzanna. My dear, this is Commodore James Norrington."

She had curtsied demurely, and the Commodore had bowed again, very formally. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Holliday," he had said, and had smiled at her. The smile lit his eyes, as well, and as his gaze met hers, Suzanna thought he was really one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. And then he had spoken words that quite won her heart, for all they were of dubious veracity: turning to Mother, he had said, "Margaret, what a beauty she is! You will have your hands full, when she makes her debut, just as your parents did!"

Mother had laughed, and agreed, and Lady Harry had said, "And she is just as sweet-natured as her mother: a most delightful houseguest! Her little sister, Julietta, is nearly as pretty, but she is something of a rogue, like her brother."

The Commodore had chuckled, and said, "Ah, yes! The inimitable Charles. I thoroughly enjoyed having him with me yesterday—today seemed quite dull in comparison! Even my men remarked on it."

"I hope he behaved himself!" said Mother, sounding concerned.

But the Commodore had said, "Oh certainly. He was full of bounce and endless questions, but his behavior was exemplary."

Lady Harry said, "James, can you stay for dinner? We eat at six tonight, for Jack wants to leave with the tide in the morning, which means boarding the _Pearl_ before first light. Perhaps after you meet with the men you can walk in the garden with Maggie and discuss old times." The Commodore and Mother had both given Lady Harry the oddest look at this, and Mother had blushed again! But Lady Harry had only smiled, and had added, "Anatole is making braised capon—one of his specialties! Not to be missed, give you my word!"

The Commodore had made some slight protest about imposing on the Governor's hospitality, but Lady Harry had advised him not to be absurd, that of course Weatherby would want him to stay, and that she would not consider a refusal.

So he had stayed, and, after meeting with the men in the library, all the grown-ups had repaired to the back garden for refreshments and talk before dinner.

Maria had been requested to bring Julietta outside to be introduced to the Commodore, and Suzanna had accompanied her. She knew her little sister would draw everyone's attention, which suited her just now, for she wanted to observe her mother and the Commodore further.

Maria put Julietta down and the little girl immediately went to Captain Sparrow, who greeted her and set her on his knee. Lady Harry pretended to be jealous, and called Julietta a 'little hussy' and 'a shameless flirt', and then laughed in delight when Julietta cocked an eyebrow at her, sucking her thumb disinterestedly. And the Captain had said to Lady Harry, "Don't worry, you'll have your chance later. She just loves me hair," which made everyone laugh (and was manifestly untrue).

Her Mother and the Commodore had exchanged some amused glances during this interlude, the sort that passed between old and dear friends. But when conversation became more general again, the occasional meetings of eyes had held a hint of shyness on her mother's part, and of awkwardness on the Commodore's. It was all most intriguing.

And then there was The Kiss.

This had occurred after she and Lilian were supposed to have been tucked up and asleep. As was their wont, they had crept from their bed after Maria had shut their door and had gone out onto the balcony to sit at its edge, legs dangling through the railings, looking out at the formal gardens and up at the bright moon, and the stars. The night air was delightfully soft and cool, and it was the best time of day really, just the two of them and the freedom to speak of anything and everything. She was telling Lilian about the Commodore and Mother (for her friend had had to go off fishing with her brother that day, contending with worms and wriggling, slimy, dying creatures, and had not returned until dinner time, thus missing all the excitement) when they had caught sight of two people emerging onto the lawn from the house.

"It's Mother!" Suzanna had whispered sharply, poking Lilian with an elbow. The two quickly drew their legs up and moved back, out of the moonlight.

"And the Commodore!" Lilian turned her face and Suzanna could see her friend's teeth and eyes glinting as she grinned in the dim light. "Just like you thought!"

The two girls had looked out at the couple crossing the lawn to where the chairs were still grouped. Mother sat down in one, and the Commodore pulled another one over, at a close angle, and sat down, his knees nearly touching Mother's.

Suzanna whispered excitedly, "See? What did I tell you?"

Lilian nodded, vigorously.

They settled down to watch.

There wasn't much to see, at first, only the two of them talking. But then, after a while, the Commodore reached out and picked up Mother's hand from where it had lain on her knee. She did not draw it away, either, but let him hold it, continuing the conversation, until, finally, she lay her other hand over his, briefly, then stood up. The Commodore stood, as well, and as he had kept hold of the hand it seemed most natural when he bowed over it and placed a farewell kiss on the slack fingertips. After he straightened, there was a breathless pause as they looked at each other, and then the Commodore drew Mother toward him and she raised her face to his, and he kissed her. Briefly. Chastely. They parted, and there was another long look. And then the Commodore tucked Mother's hand under his arm and they walked together, back toward the house.

Suzanna and Lilian both gasped (for they'd been holding their breaths) and then closed their mouths against startled laughter, communicating their astonishment with soundless smiles and bright eyes.

When the couple had disappeared into the house again, Lilian said, "Oh, Sue! You will have a new father soon!"

"Oh, oh! I can't believe it! Mother and the Commodore!" Suzanna shook her head. "Oh, he is lovely! So very kind and polite, and…Oh, I can't believe it!" And she had thrown her arms around her friend and they had hugged each other, the moment demanding it.

And the next morning, when it was still dark, and there were soft booted footsteps to be heard on the landing, Suzanna had slipped from her bed and her room, and had run down the carpeted hall to the stairs. Captain Sparrow had just started down them and she called to him, soft and imperative, "Captain!" He had heard and come back up to her.

"What are you doing up, Missy? You should be asleep yet!" he whispered, but with a smile.

"I wanted to ask you…the Commodore…he likes my Mother, doesn't he?"

"Well, of course. Why?"

"I mean…_particularly_ likes her. Does he not?"

"And what makes you say that?"

"He…he kissed her! Last night. After dinner. Out on the lawn. Lily and I saw."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that right? That's mighty interesting."

"Do you think he will offer for her?"

The Captain chuckled, but said only, "I think if he does you'd better watch yourself. He's not like to take kindly to a daughter who consorts with pirate captains in the hour before dawn wearin' only a nightdress."

She'd reddened, only then realizing she'd forgotten her robe and slippers in her haste to catch him before he descended the stairs. He pinched her cheek.

He said, "Off to bed with ye, now, Missy. We'll bring the Commodore back in a few days. You take care of your Mother 'til then, savvy?"

She had nodded, and smiled, and obeyed, waving goodbye as she'd skipped back down the hall to the bedroom.

That was four days ago. The _Black Pearl_ was due to return to Port Royal tomorrow night. Unless they decided to extend their stay at the plantation by a day, as Lady Harry thought they might.

"I do hope they come home tomorrow, though," Suzanna said to Lilian. They were both laying on their backs in the shade of a beautiful, big tree that grew at the lower edge of the forested slope by the beach where they'd come for the afternoon. Cook had packed a simple, but sustaining picnic lunch (for Anatole had gone on the _Pearl_ with the men) and the ladies had brought it down to the shore where they were spending the warm afternoon eating and talking and laughing while the children played.

"Yes, but then we are to go back to St. Claire," said Lilian, "and I like it here. I think I shall marry a rich plantation owner and live here when I grow up."

"I shall marry a pirate," Suzanna said. "A nice one though. Owens, perhaps."

"Owens!" laughed Lilian, then considered this more seriously. "He might be a good choice. He is very nice, and could very well grow to be quite handsome, eventually."

"He _is_ handsome!" Suzanna objected.

"Little boys are not handsome. Even your brother, who is very good-looking in his way."

Suzanna scowled. "My brother is a plague and a bother, and a rude, heathenish boor!" She had still not forgiven him for bringing a lizard into the nursery the previous morning, causing all the kittens (who were now growing quite large and difficult to control) to chase it 'round the room for an hour, and Julietta to have terrified hysterics. Not to mention herself, for Maria had insisted that she help with the catching of the lizard and she did hate the things!

"Where is he? And Owens too?" Lilian asked, half sitting up.

Suzanna sat up too, and looked around. Mother, Lady Harry, Mrs. Turner, and Maria were sitting a hundred yards up the beach, on a nice wide quilt they'd spread under another tree, and Julietta was with them, napping. But the boys were nowhere to be seen, and Suzanna wondered at this for Mother had told them not to go out of sight. "Maybe we had better find them," Suzanna said. "What a nuisance Charles is!"

The girls rose and walked along the beach to where the rocky outcrops started, with caves and tidepools, and all kinds of fascinating things designed to lure boys away from their mothers. The boys were not supposed to have gone beyond this point, but had obviously done so, for there were their footprints in the sand, leading toward the rocks.

"Perhaps we should go back and tell mother," Suzanna suggested, having no wish to bring wrath upon herself for the likes of Charles.

"No, for they've likely just forgotten themselves in playing at pirates or something. You wouldn't want Owens to get in trouble for it."

Suzanna nodded. "All right. But they'd better be close by. Stupid Charles! It is just like him to be so thoughtless."

The girls were able to get around the outcropping of rocks by making their way through a tunnel-like sea cave, which was only accessible at low tide. On the other side of this there was a great deal more rocky shore than sandy beach, with the forest coming right down to the water in some places. It was difficult terrain, and their sandals were rather inadequate footwear for negotiating it. Still, the boys were not in sight.

"If they have gone into the forest they shall just have to face Mother's wrath," said Suzanna. "There are spiders, and I have had enough of lizards!"

"Let us look round the next outcrop. It's not too far."

Suzanna reluctantly agreed to this, and the girls carefully walked and climbed over the rocks, following the curve of the shore to the next outcropping. Rounding this with some difficulty, they came out onto a sandy area behind some boulders and were just about to leave their shelter when strange voices met their ears. Cautiously they peeked round and froze at the sight and sound that met their eyes.

The sand and boulders sloped down abruptly to another little sandy bay. In the middle, at its edge, a small boat was drawn up. And directly below them were two men, coarse-looking fellows with dirty shirts, one with longish yellow hair and a snub nose, the other big and dark-skinned and handsome in a rather oily way. And these men were bending over the struggling forms of Michael Owens and Suzanna's brother Charles.

"Bloody hell, hold still!" came the voice of the yellow-haired man and Suzanna nearly cried out as he cuffed Charles hard on the side of the head, then swiftly tied the boy's wrists in the resulting lull.

The dark man, being bigger, was having less trouble holding and tying Owens, though the girls could hear him protest, "You'll not get away with this! Captain Sparrow will hunt you down and you'll be dead men!"

"Captain Sparrow!" the dark man said derisively, stuffing a large handkerchief in Owens's mouth with thick, dirty fingers and considerable relish, laughing as he avoided being bitten. "An' how's the daft bugger gonna know, eh? 'E won't get notice 'til we're long gone!"

"Shuddup, Ace," said the yellow-haired man, "That Frenchie just better be in Tortuga Bay waitin' for us, that's all. Don't hold with kidnappin' brats."

"If 'e's not, it's the market at Port-au-Prince for these two. Nice white meat like these'll fetch a tidy sum."

"They better. Sparrow looks a joke, but 'e ain't, I tell ye."

"Well, 'e could've fooled me!"

Ace, having finished tying Owens, now dragged him to his feet and slung him over a broad shoulder, where the boy lay, struggling feebly. The yellow-haired man had more difficulty with Charles, as he seemed still to be half stunned from the blow, but he finally managed it. Together the ruffians started the walk back to their boat.

Suzanna and Lilian had been crouched, shivering behind the rocks not ten feet away, clinging to each other while this horrible scene was enacted. But now Suzanna shook off her friend and stood, waving her arms, hoping against hope that Owens would raise his head and see her. The yellow-haired man whirled around suddenly, and she dropped to the ground, her heart thudding. And then Lilian said, "He's going!" and Suzanna got up, more cautiously this time. The two of them watched as the boys were dumped unceremoniously into the little boat. The yellow-haired man got in after them, and the man named Ace shoved the boat out into the water and got in as well. And it was then that the girls noticed, quite a way off shore, a disreputable-looking sloop lying at anchor, riding the swells.

There was nothing to be done. The girls, with a last glance at the little boat, silently and carefully made their way back around the outcrop, across the rocky middle area, and through the sea cave (though the tide had risen enough in that time to give them a scare and get their dresses soaked in the process). And then, the sandy beach before them, the girls broke into a run, shrieking and sobbing as they rushed toward the ladies and Julietta, still resting in the shade of the tree.


	10. Troubled Waters

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's, except for the original characters.

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Harry and the Pirate: _Norrington's Choice_**

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X. Troubled Waters**

"Gone! What d'ye mean, they're gone?"

This in response to Maria's dramatic announcement, made when she was halfway up the gangplank, accompanied by Suzanna Holliday and Lilian Lightfoot. The ladies were followed by two Naval officers, the insufferable Lieutenant Gillette, and the more likeable Lieutenant Groves, both of whom Jack remembered from his various involuntary sojourns aboard _H.M.S. Dauntless_. All of them had been waiting when the _Black Pearl_ drew up to the dock on its return to Port Royal, and those aboard the ship had suspected that their grim-faced presence, along with the very noticeable absence of Lady Harry, Lady Margaret, Elizabeth, and the boys, boded ill.

Maria said, "My mistress, Mrs. Turner, and your wife are gone after the boys!"

"Captain, Charles and Owens have been taken!" exclaimed Suzanna, her voice breaking. "There were two men. Lilian and I saw them!"

"Taken!" exclaimed Norrington. He demanded of his Lieutenants, "What does she mean?"

"Where's the note?" Jack demanded, resigned, holding out his hand to Maria. She promptly removed a missive from her pocket and handed it to him. He unfolded the rather thick, expensive pink paper, and began to swear softly, and vehemently as he swiftly deciphered his wife's agitated handwriting. Toward the end of it he gave a bark of derisive laughter. "God's teeth! I must not worry, she says! _Not worry_!"

Governor Swann took the letter from Jack's slackened grasp and read it aloud to the others.

_My love, you will not credit it but the boys—Owens and Charles, that is—have been kidnapped! Suzanna and Lilian saw two men take them and load them into a small boat and head out toward where a sloop was waiting. The girls said they'd overheard the ruffians mention meeting a Frenchman in Tortuga. We asked (no, demanded!) that the Navy take a hand and give chase, but that dreadful little man James left in charge, Gillette I believe his name is, refused! I wish you will hit him when you see him, for he is the most odiously officious, pompous, sarcastic and unhelpful person I have ever encountered! He claims the British Navy has no jurisdiction in Tortuga (and if that is so, how is it that James brought the _Dauntless_ to fetch you back to Port Royal before we were married?) and that we should wait for the Commodore's return! A whole twenty-four hours! If not more, for there is no saying but what you may decide to stay an extra day, or even two. Indeed, I hope you all have had a lovely visit with Mr. Greene, even though your absence just at this time is most inconvenient, not to say distressing. However, we are taking action: Maggie wished to hire a boat to take us to Tortuga, but Davis Lightfoot has offered to sail us on the _BonnyLass_! You must not worry: we have gone heavily armed, for I borrowed some weapons from Weatherby (I picked the lock on the cabinet quite easily, and if you do not mention it to him I daresay he will not even notice they are gone) and Elizabeth, of course was able to obtain all manner of beautiful swords and knives from Will's works. But please follow along after us as quickly as possible, for I will be much more at ease when you are there to take charge. I am, as ever, your loving wife, Harry_.

"Picked the lock!" said Weatherby, outraged. He looked at Jack accusingly. "Did you teach her that?"

"No, I bloody did not!" snapped Jack. "She's your sister! You know what she is!"

"Unscrupulous, hot-at-hand, and utterly foolish! Why she is to give birth in another month! She should be at home, knitting!"

Maria put in, "Lady Margaret tried to persuade her to stay here, but she would have none!"

"I'll wager she didn't," agreed Jack, grimly. "Owens and Charles taken! Bloody hell. _Anatole_!"

The chef, who, along with Alphonse and many of the rest of the crew, had been on deck taking in the fact that calamity had again reared its ugly head, stepped forward. "Oui, Capitaine!"

"Take as many men as ye need and get provisions to last two or three weeks. We leave in two hours, so you'd best move!" As Anatole and the crew did so, Jack turned to the guests, saying, "I'll ask you to step down to me cabin, ladies and gents. There are a few questions I'd like answered."

Giles Lightfoot gave his daughter's hand a comforting squeeze, while Gillette said, huffily, "We have come only to report to Commodore Norrington!"

But Norrington told him, "And you _will_ report, Gillette, to me _and_ to Captain Sparrow, and if you've insufficient reason for letting those women go haring off to rescue those boys I just may let the Captain grant his wife's wish before taking more official action."

In the event, however, Gillette was spared any physical expression of the Captain's wrath, for it appeared that the ladies had not informed the Lieutenant that they were not only disinclined to heed his advice but were taking matters into their own hands.

"Indeed, sir," said Gillette to Norrington, pink-faced and sweating under the combined glare of icy green and fiery dark eyes, "If I had known, I would have done my utmost to dissuade them from so foolish a course of action!"

"Foolish, is it?" growled Jack. "Seems to me you're the fool! Why the devil didn't you take that little ship of yours and go after 'em yourself! You could've caught 'em before they'd even come in sight o' Tortuga!"

"_Endeavor_, you mean?" said Norrington, referring to the ship that had been sent from England to replace the _Interceptor. _He shook his head. "It's still in the midst of repairs. Broken mizzenmast, not two days out of Port Royal."

Jack swore, then remembered the presence of the Nurse and two girls. "My apologies, ladies. I'm a bit put out by all this."

The Nurse nodded gravely. Suzanna said, worriedly, "Captain, you will be able to find them? The boys, I mean."

"Or I'll die tryin'" said Jack, then, seeing her horrified expression, added, "But it won't come to that! Don't you worry, Missy, we'll bring 'em all back safe an' sound. Now you an' Lily tell me exactly how it was, and what those men said an' just what they looked like."

But Suzanna and Lilian brought no comfort to Jack. In fact, the more he heard the more serious was his expression. Finally, he got up and walked over to the bank of windows and looked out at the harbor. Norrington joined him.

"Do you think you know who took them?" the Commodore asked quietly.

"Maybe. Couple o' nasty buggers, if I guess right. But it's this Frenchman I don't know about. Settin' toughs to kidnappin' a pair o' schoolboys in order to get me is the work of a right blackguard. For that's what it is." Jack looked briefly at the Commodore, then out the window again.

Norrington frowned. "It wasn't your doing, Jack."

Jack gave a short, humorless laugh. "Might just as well have been." He took a deep breath. "Well, as I told little Suzanna there, I'll set it right or die tryin'. You'd best get your things together, including those two Lieutenants of yours, an' take your leave. We'll be gettin' ready to weigh anchor soon."

"The Lieutenants can see themselves off. I'm coming with you, of course." He lifted a brow at Jack's look of surprise. "With your permission, of course, Captain."

Jack's mouth quirked slightly. "Maggie, eh?"

Norrington nodded. "And Charles. And Owens, and Elizabeth, and your Harry. And you, for that matter."

Jack stared at him. Then said slowly, "Thanks, but my safety ain't your concern."

Norrington was almost successful in masking effect of this statement, but he said only, "It is, when you are dealing with the French, which appears to be the case in this instance."

"So it is." Jack eyed him narrowly. "Daresay you're a good man to have at one's back in a fight. But I ain't givin' up command o' this ship for anyone."

"No one is asking you to do so, Captain."

"All right, then. Commodore."

A rather wry look of amusement lit Norrington's eyes. "And to think it was 'Jim-me-lad' two hours back. How changeable life is."

Jack couldn't help smiling. "It is that." He looked back at the table. "Will? Giles? Are you both coming? Norrington's to join us."

The Governor, pretending to be indignant, said, "What, am I not invited as well?"

Jack said, "No, for someone must stay an' watch the kittens, eh?" and laughed at the Governor's grimace of displeasure.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"This place is a travesty of civilization," Mrs. Henrietta Sparrow proclaimed, annoyed and weary, wrinkling her little nose in disgust as another very dirty, drunken citizen staggered past. "I cannot conceive of anyone choosing to live in this manner."

"Jack told Will it's a sad life that's never breathed deep Tortuga's sweet, proliferous bouquet!" Elizabeth chuckled, keeping a firm hold of her sword hilt.

"Men are idiots," said Lady Margaret, succinctly.

Harry laughed, hearing such words coming from the lips of her mild-mannered friend, and Davis Lightfoot, who was following them, cleared his throat.

"Not you, of course, Davis," Maggie said contritely. "But really! This town appears to be an absolute cesspit of depravity. If I had realized, I would never have let my Charles near the place, in spite of Jack's assurances of his safety."

Davis said soothingly, "There are nicer areas to the town, and the Widow McGee and her family are fine people. It's just down here that it seems like an unrelieved den of corruption."

Harry said, "I hope we find one or the other of the villains soon. We've looked in at least a dozen taverns, and only heard one rumor of 'Ace' leaving town! And nothing of the other! Do you think there are many yellow-haired men with snub noses here?"

"Not many. Certainly not many that chum about with fellows called 'Ace'.

The four started across the square before them, toward another tavern, attracting the usual gaping looks of interest from the local citizenry: it was not every day one saw three beautiful, elegantly dressed, heavily armed ladies, the shorter of whom was very obviously near her time, accompanied by an open-faced, raw-boned young man with a useful-looking blunderbuss. One onlooker in particular, a tall, heavily painted woman with red hair and a redder dress turned away from the sailor she was chatting up and stared, her lips curving contemptuously.

"Well, ain't this a sight? A little mum and 'er lady's maids! Davis, 'oo are these? Yer bodyguards, then?"

"Now then, Miss Scarlet, don't be baitin' these ladies," said Davis. "They ain't in a good mood."

Harry stopped, looking the woman up and down. "Davis, you know this person?"

Davis looked rather embarrassed. "Why, near everyone knows Miss Scarlet, ma'am."

Harry's brows lifted and she said, with thinly veiled contempt, "I'll wager they do."

Miss Scarlet's eyes flashed and she frowned. "Well, yer know my name. What's yours, Mistress High an' Mighty? Or is it _Miss_ after all?"

Harry tilted her chin. "Not that it is any of your concern, but it is Mrs. Henrietta Sparrow, wife of Captain Jack Sparrow."

Scarlet gobbled briefly. Then, trying for disdainful derision and achieving only a harsh gasp, she said, "_Wife!_ Of Jack Sparrow! That bloody eunuch!"

Harry gave a little bark of angry laughter. "Obviously not!"

The sailor snickered. "Gave ye the go-by, did 'e, Scarlet?"

"Bastard. Shoulda slapped 'is pretty face twice as 'ard."

"You slapped him?" exclaimed Harry, and her companions looked a little alarmed at her tone.

"I did. An' I'd do it again this instant, if 'e were 'ere. Married! _Ha_!"

But her laughter was cut short by Harry's fist connecting with her rouged cheekbone, which caused her to stagger back, catch her ankles on the edge of the boardwalk, and thump ungracefully down.

"Aunt Harry!"

"Harry, no!"

"Ma'am, you mustn't! See here, Scarlet," said Davis to that outraged female as she struggled to her feet, a murderous look in her eye. The young man quickly grabbed the belligerent Mrs. Sparrow by the arm and thrust her behind him where she was held firmly by her niece and her friend. "I warned you she was in a bad mood. You can't go fightin' with a woman that's carryin' for the Lord's sake!"

The sailor, giving a gap-toothed laugh, grabbed onto Scarlet, who shrieked, "She's bloody given me a black eye! I'll bloody kill 'er! Let me go!"

Harry bared her teeth in what was a decidedly nasty grin and began feeling for the hilt of her knife, when a deep voice sounded sharply, "Here, what's this then!" and a big red-haired man in an elegant suit strode up, accompanied by two lesser minions. Scarlet subsided, with obvious resentment, and Harry drew herself up to her full height (which came approximately to the middle of the newcomer's chest) and assumed the practiced hauteur of a former dowager duchess.

"Davis, ye'll introduce me?"

"Lady Harry, this is Phineas McCollough, mayor of Tortuga. Mayor, Mrs. Henrietta Sparrow."

Harry nodded to the mayor with great condescension, and said, "How do you do?" and he, in turn, chuckled and looked her over appreciatively. "So you're Jack Sparrow's better half, eh? A lucky man, the ol' devil is. And didn't waste any time, either, I see. But, I can't be havin' ye startin' a fight here, ma'am. It ain't fittin'."

"My apologies, Mayor McCollough. I am unused to being accosted by unmannerly persons who claim to rejoice in having assaulted my husband with little to no provocation."

A shaggy red brow rose, and the Mayor eyed the indignant Scarlet briefly. "Did she, now? Well, sure, you may think that's reason enough to give 'er a shiner, but there's probably a good many that could say the same an' ye can't be claimin' vengence on 'em all! He's quite the ladies' man, y'know—or _was_ at any rate. Liked 'is fun, but a bit particular about who 'e ultimately favored, if ye get me drift. At least since I've known 'im. Caused a bit of turmoil now an' then."

Scarlet shook off the sailor's restraining hand at this point and straightened. "I'll be off now, with your permission, Mayor, since you 'ave this termagant under control."

Phineas had turned toward Scarlet, so Harry pulled a face at the doxy, then erased it swiftly as the Mayor turned back, his suspicions aroused by Scarlet's sudden look of outrage. He gave Harry a warning glare, then said to Scarlet, "Aye, then, perhaps ye'd better." He was silent as Scarlet flounced off across the square, but then he shook a large finger at Harry and said, "And you, ma'am, had best behave yerself, or I'll be tellin' yer husband of ye."

"Well, he can hardly do more than give me a scold at this point," said Harry, patting 'Young Sparrow', her eyes bright with mischief.

Phineas shook his head, disapprovingly, not quite subduing the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'd heard 'e'd got himself a pretty handful, an' I see it's no more'n the truth. Where is 'e, by the by? And who's yer lovely escort, here, if ye don't mind me askin'?"

"This is Lady Margaret Holliday, an old friend of mine, and this is Mrs. Elizabeth Turner, my niece." The ladies curtsied, and Phineas bowed with great elegance. Harry went on, "We hope my husband will be joining us soon, but he was from home and we have had to come without him on a most urgent errand: Mrs. Holliday's son Charles, and our own cabin boy, Michael Owens, have been kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped! Little Owens, and Charlie? For of course I know 'em, ma'am," said Phineas to Lady Margaret. "Fine little lads, both, an' pluck to the backbone." Phineas chuckled. "Gave Captain Sparrow a bit o' grief when they first arrived that last time, but 'e soon had 'em straightened out." Seeing Lady Margaret's horrified look, the Mayor cleared his throat and abandoned this line of conversation. "But kidnapped, ye say?"

"Yes," said Harry. "We have good reason to suspect they were brought here to Tortuga where the villains were to hand them over to an unknown Frenchman! We were less than twelve hours behind them, I think, although that little storm delayed us somewhat, but we have been looking for them for hours and have had no luck at all in finding them. Perhaps you could help us! There is a big, dark man named Ace, and another with yellow hair and a snub nose."

Phineas's brows shot up. "Ace Blackstone and Ned Shaffer! Never heard that they were kidnappin' coves, but there you go: no tellin' what bas…bug…blackguards like those'll be up to!"

"You know them!" said Lady Margaret, hopefully. "Have you seen them, then?"

"Saw Ned not an hour since. Down at the Cat 'n' Whistle, in the old part o' town. Didn't have the boys with 'im, though. Hmmm." Phineas fingered his beard thoughtfully.

"What is it? Do you know something?" demanded Harry.

Phineas looked at her, frowning. "Nothin' fer sure, though…the thing is, I saw some strange goin's on out in the harbor this mornin'—I'm an early riser, an' like to take me mornin' tea lookin' out on the sea. Anyroad, looked like some cargo bein' loaded onto that ship from Martinique—what was it called?"

"_Fleur de Mer_, Mayor," said one of the minions.

"That's right! One o' Emile Tussaud's ships. 'e's a merchant—rich as Croesus—has a home on Martinique. An' it was after that I saw Ace an' Ned. Don't know where Ace got to after that, but like I said, Ned's at the Cat 'n' Whistle. Saw 'im chattin' up another o' yer husband's acquaintances: one Giselle Bontemps." Harry rolled her eyes a bit, and Phineas narrowed his, saying, "Now don't you even think of goin' after that one. She an' Scarlet're just the tip o' the iceberg, I'm afraid. Ye can't go after 'em all! Ye must've known what 'e was when ye married 'im!"

"Yes, of course. I daresay you are perfectly correct," Harry agreed, but sounded considerably annoyed. "My deepest thanks, Mayor McCollough. You have been most helpful and I promise I will try to refrain from causing you more distress."

"It ain't me I'm worried about, Mrs. Sparrow," said Phineas, pointedly, "it's you, and what yer husband'll have to say if yer hurt! You'll extend my congratulations to 'im, when you see 'im, and my sympathies as well, eh?"

Harry chuckled, and said, "You may be sure of it, sir!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The Cat 'n' Whistle was one of the seedier looking establishments, located in the older part of the town, as the Mayor had indicated. It was quite a long way, and by the time they got there Harry was feeling even more tired and irritable.

"Giselle had better have made herself scarce," observed Elizabeth, eyeing her Aunt's flushed countenance worriedly.

Lady Margaret shook her head. "Your husband will be ready to murder the lot of us if you come to harm, Harry. You should have stayed on the _Bonny Lass_ and let the rest of us do this!"

"Nonsense!" said Harry, briskly. "Hopefully this will be our last stop, and we can get the information we need and proceed after the boys. If the Mayor is correct and that Emile Tussaud has something to do with it, we can leave for Martinique tonight!"

"Good God," said Davis, "I hope it won't come to that! Martinique is a long way off, eight or ten days in the _Bonny Lass_, over open water. If that's the case, I say we wait for the _Pearl_: it's safer in a big ship, and her speed'll cut days off the journey. But maybe the boys're here in town, somewhere."

"We'll find out!" Harry said.

The party entered, and the ladies had to endure some impertinent stares while Davis bribed the barkeep to give over the whereabouts of Ned Shaffer. The man was perfectly willing to do this, for the right price, however, and Davis presently motioned to the ladies. The party proceeded up the rickety staircase to the second floor, where rooms were let by the hour as well as by the night.

"This is it," Davis said, when they reached a room marked with the number 3. "Stand back, ladies."

Davis gained them entrance by the simple expedient of kicking the door in. There was a harsh scream and a startled oath as the four piled in, and then they were confronting a couple lying naked in bed, a sheet drawn up to their chins. The woman was thin, blond, and heavily painted as 'Scarlet' had been; the man had long, dirty yellow hair and a snub nose, as promised. Davis trained his blunderbuss on their quarry from one side, and Maggie and Elizabeth ranged themselves and their swords on the other. Harry took the center, drew the pistol from her pocket, and took dead aim.

"What the devil? What do you want?" demanded the man, his voice shrill.

"My son," said Maggie in icy accents.

Harry said, "You have made a great mistake if you thought you would succeed in kidnapping those boys with impunity, you despicable blackguard! Tell us where they are this minute or I will not be answerable for the consequences."

"Don't know what yer talkin' about!" barked the man.

"You're mad! 'oo are you?" demanded the wench.

Harry fixed a smoldering eye on her. "Are you Giselle?" she asked in deceptively dulcet tones.

"What if I am? What's it to you?"

"Just this," said Harry, and quite deliberately cocked the pistol. "I am Henrietta Sparrow, wife of Captain Jack Sparrow, and although I have promised the Mayor I would not harm you, in spite of your dealings with my husband, I have not been taught the use of firearms and cannot vouch for my aim should this pistol discharge. I suggest you take your bony arse and leave immediately. _Savvy_?"

Giselle did not need to be told twice. Wailing a little, she scurried naked from the bed and, grabbing up her discarded skirt, ran from the room, her wail increasing in volume as she gained the hall, and then the stairs.

Harry, smiling at the heavy thump of footsteps on the staircase, trained the pistol on Ned Shaffer. "Now!" she said, her voice cold and hard as ice, "We will discuss the exact whereabouts of Michael Owens and Charles Holliday, and…"

"_Harry_!"

Jack's voice! With a glad cry, Harry swung 'round. There was a deafening report as the pistol fired, and Jack staggered back.


	11. I Spy With My Little Eye

Disclaimer: Mostly Disney's

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Harry and the Pirate: Norrington's Choice**

**********_XI. I Spy With My Little Eye…_**

Harry gave a horrified shriek and dropped the pistol, running to Jack as he got his balance and grabbed at his arm. "I haven't killed you! Jack, don't say I've killed you!"

"Well, I won't then," Jack said, his voice somewhere between a gasp and a growl, but his words were nearly drowned out by the high-pitched alarms of Elizabeth and Maggie and a shout from Davis as their captive made an attempt to escape out the window. Will and Norrington rushed into the room, followed by Giles Lightfoot.

Giles let the younger men deal with the one problem, while he turned to Jack and Harry. "Have you killed him, lass?"

"Wouldn't hurt like this if it were fatal," Jack said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, Jack! I'm so sorry!" said Harry in dismay, nearly wringing her hands. "Oh, you are bleeding!"

"Of course I'm bleeding! You shot me! I suppose your brother George showed you how to use a pistol like he did a sword," her husband growled. "Damnation. That man and I are due for a reckoning some day."

"But he did not! I have never handled a pistol before. They are Weatherby's dueling pistols, and looked so beautiful…I thought they'd be useful, for intimidating our quarry you know."

Jack stared at her. "Dueling pistols!"

"Aye," said Giles, coming over with it, having retrieved it from where Harry had dropped it. "Nice one. Hair trigger on it, too!"

Jack's eyes narrowed and he snapped at his wife, "Bloody hell! It's a miracle ye didn't kill someone! Me, for example!"

"Let's get your coat off, son," said Giles. "You can read her a lecture on the proper handling of firearms when we get back to the Pearl."

"A lecture! By God, if you weren't due in a month…" But what he would have done in this event remained unspoken, for Giles had pried his hand away and he groaned and swore as they helped him remove his coat.

"Your shirtsleeve's pretty much a dead loss," Giles commented, taking out a knife. He slit the linen, cutting away the sleeve to reveal a long, ragged, sluggishly bleeding wound across Jack's upper arm. "Was that a tattoo?" Giles asked, interested.

"It was!" Jack glared at his wife.

Harry flushed, guiltily. "Oh, I am so sorry. But indeed, it was an accident, Jack!"

Jack ground his teeth.

"Winged you, did she?" Norrington had come over to take a look at the wound, and sounded amused, though he managed not to smile.

"Bloody hell," Jack muttered, trying to see. "How bad is it?"

"A rather ugly flesh wound, I'm afraid, but it doesn't look too serious."

"Just bind it up then, will you? You can use that shirtsleeve."

"Jack, no!" said Harry. "It will need to be cleaned and…"

"We'll do that when we get back to the ship. We've other fish to fry at the moment. Where's that fellow that took the boys?"

"He's safety trussed," said Will, coming over with Elizabeth and Maggie, Davis following behind. "Are you all right?"

"I'll do," said Jack. "Lightfoot, you an' Davis an' Will can take the ladies back to the _Pearl_, if ye please. Norrington can help me with the arm, if he'll be so kind, an' then the two of us'll have a bit of conversation with our fine gentleman over there."

"But Jack…"

"Mrs. Sparrow, if you'll come with me," said Giles, his eyes twinkling as he took the lady's arm and firmly steered her toward the door before her husband could forget himself, and the fact that she was in a delicate condition.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

As they descended the stairs to the ground floor, Harry said worriedly, "I am afraid Jack may be just a little angry with me!"

"He might be at that," Giles agreed, suppressing a chuckle. "It's not every day your wife nearly kills you with a hair-trigger dueling pistol."

"It was an accident!" she said, unhappily.

"So it was. I'm sure he'll keep that in mind when he discusses it with you later. But it's as well for your sake that you're eight months along: he can't very well do more than give you a bit of a scold."

Harry sighed, distressed even at this prospect. "Yes, I know. I said as much to the Mayor after I blackened that harlot's eye."

Giles gave a bark of laughter. "What sort of adventures have you three been having here? A pack o' pretty hoydens, the lot o' you!"

Elizabeth said, with considerable amusement, "Oh, no! Lady Margaret and I have behaved in an exemplary manner! It is only my Aunt who nearly brought disaster upon us."

"Elizabeth! That is most unfair!" Harry protested. "The woman insulted me, and claimed to have hit Jack! What would you?"

"Oh, aye," said Giles, sarcastically. "I daresay Jack'll be right pleased to hear you've been havin' a catfight with some strumpet."

"Well, not pleased, precisely," Harry agreed. "But he would understand! Only perhaps we shouldn't tell him, at least not right away."

"Maybe not. He'll have enough to think about with that arm of his."

"Perhaps his dealings with that villain will put him in a better mood," suggested Harry.

Maggie asked, "Do you think he and James will be able to get the information we need to find the boys?"

"Oh, I have great faith in the persuasive powers of Jack Sparrow and James Norrington, lass."

It seemed that he and Harry were both right. An hour after the party returned to the _Black Pearl_, Jack and James were walking up the gangplank, both wearing grimly satisfied looks.

"Ol' Ned sang right prettily, given the proper incentive," Jack said to the small crowd that had been waiting on deck for their return.

Norrington grinned crookedly at the pirate's smug reassurance, but said to Maggie, "It's true enough. The boys seem to have been handed over to a merchant vessel, owned by one Emile Tussaud of Martinique. The exchange took place just this morning, so we won't be far behind."

"That's what Mayor McCollough suspected!" Harry exclaimed.

Jack eyed her bodingly. "Aye, he said he'd seen you. Joined us at the Cat 'n' Whistle a bit ago, to make sure you weren't startin' another mill, with Giselle. Seemed right pleased I'd sent you back to the Pearl an' advised me to keep a sharp eye on you."

Harry reddened with mortification and annoyance. "He told you? And I thought him so gentlemanly!"

"He is gentlemanly!" Elizabeth asserted.

"Yes," said Margaret, in a teasing voice. "He asked us to extend his congratulations to you on your marriage, Jack. And his sympathies!"

"Did he indeed?" Jack's eyes narrowed as he fixed his thoroughly chagrinned wife with an accusing glare, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice as he said, "You should've heard him a few minutes ago, when he found out who'd put a bullet through me arm! But then, if ye can't afford the public a bit of amusement, what good are ye, eh? I daresay it'll be all over town by tonight."

"Oh, no!" said Harry, dismayed.

"Oh, yes, Miss Fire-eater. At least Scarlet & Giselle's sensibilities will be somewhat assuaged in the knowledge you did worse to me than they ever thought of!" He saw that she was rendered quite speechless by this observation, and he had to pull her close and kiss her. But then he said, "Don't think I've done ringin' a peal over you just because o' that. We'll continue presently, in the cabin, while you help clean up your handiwork."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry was a little subdued the next day, and so extremely solicitous of Jack that he was finally moved to take her below and show her quite unequivocally that he'd forgiven her for shooting him. The wound was painful, but not serious enough to impede most normal activity, though he did develop a slight fever by that evening and was thus confined to his cabin not only at his wife's insistence but at Giles and Norrington's as well.

"If you are going to be of use in retrieving those lads when we reach our destination you had better rest while you have the opportunity," said the Commodore. "I'm sure your charming wife will find some way to keep you tolerably entertained."

Jack chuckled, in spite of his aches. "Aye, that's one of the advantages of havin' a wife, innit? She can kill ye with kindness if she misses with her dueling pistol."

He did not seem too unhappy with the situation, however, and would have considered it a rare treat to lay abed with the beautiful Mrs. Sparrow for two days if he'd not been so concerned with how the boys were faring.

"That Emile Tussaud's turned into a right bastard, if reports don't lie. Still, I've not heard that he's a taste for lads. He's done this to lure me to the island, although why he'd go to this much trouble to do it is anyone's guess."

"Maybe it was _his_ harpsichord!" Harry suggested.

"Maybe the _Vaillant_ was his ship!" Will said.

"Do you know, Maggie?" asked Elizabeth.

Lady Margaret, who was seated next to Norrington at the big table where they were all in the midst of dinner, picked up her glass of wine and said, "I'm afraid not. Due to my dreadful bout of seasickness I only dined with him twice, and that near the beginning of the voyage. He did not mention the owner at all on either occasion."

"You are doing remarkably well on this voyage!" observed Norrington, smiling at her.

She returned the smile, coloring slightly. "Yes, and I am not sure why. Perhaps it is Anatole's cooking, or simply being on a different ship. I felt quite well on the _Bonny Lass_, too, except during the storm, but I thought that was because of my overriding concern for the boys. I am still concerned, of course, but…the thing is, I feel all will be well, now that you all are here to see to it."

Jack frowned moodily at his own wine glass, rolling the stem between his thumb and fingers. "We'll get 'em back, and without creatin' too much of a stir, I'm hoping. It'd be best if we could catch that ship they're on, but I've a feeling they've enough of a start on us that we won't succeed in that. Still, we'll try. You've been keepin' the sails trimmed, Will?"

"Yes. James has been giving helpful suggestions, as well."

"Aye, he's a fine sailor," Jack admitted, with a crooked grin. "Who'd have thought it of the Commodore, eh?"

"I did not spring fully formed from the naval academy, pirate," Norrington said, with amused hauteur.

"Like Venus, but with brocade and wig!" Jack chuckled, along with the others, including Norrington. Then he said, "No, I'm well aware you've the skill to back the title. I'm finding it eases me mind considerably to be able to count you an ally, rather than an enemy."

"May it transpire that it always be so," said Giles Lightfoot, raising his glass in a toast. The rest of the company joined him, and the clink of glasses and the glow of camaraderie lifted everyone's spirits.

After dinner they all went up on deck to look at the stars and the beauty of the sea as they sailed southeast, the breeze fresh and constant, filling the black sails and laying a white-foamed wake at their back. Giles, Elizabeth, and Will went below, where the scraping of a fiddle told of revelry amongst the _Black Pearl's_ crew, but James and Maggie found a secluded step on which to perch, within sight of Jack and Harry, who wandered toward the prow of the great ship, their arms about one another.

"My friend is a fortunate woman," smiled Maggie.

James shook his head. "Dame fortune beams most extravagantly on the both of them. I've never seen the like, in truth."

"Did you really mean to hang him?"

James hesitated a moment before saying in a low voice, "The rope was 'round his neck and the lever thrown. If it hadn't been for Turner's sword we'd not be sitting here now."

Maggie shuddered, as with cold, and drew her shawl more closely about her. "Yes, but…what I mean is, did you really think it necessary to rid the world of Jack Sparrow?"

James said, "No. At least…insomuch as he was a pirate, I saw it as my duty to do so, under the law. Yet, even then, I saw him as something more than that. It is well nigh impossible I would think to ignore him as a man, even on short acquaintance, and by the conclusion of that first strange adventure I was well aware that he was a most unusual one. But I felt my hands were tied. Indeed, if it were not for the Governor's valid, if nebulous reasoning I would have done my best to carry out the sentence, in spite of my personal qualms. I have never been so grateful for the interference of a government official!"

Maggie smiled. "And now?"

James looked at the pair standing at the prow. Sparrow was bent toward his wife, his ornament bedecked hair momentarily providing a curtain shutting out the world. "I couldn't do it," James said, simply. He looked at Maggie. "But there are those that would."

"Perhaps it need never come to that," Maggie said.

James shook his head, although he smiled. "Perhaps not. But Jack Sparrow is not the kind to take the safest route home. And now Harry's fate is bound up with his."

"They will need their friends, maybe, in future."

"Maybe. And, if so, for better or worse I shall be counted among their number."

Maggie looked at him. "You are a good man, James."

He shrugged, slightly. "No better or worse than most."

She shook her head. "If you truly think that, then you are a great fool," she said, and drew him down to kiss him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was five days before the Pearl drew within sight of Martinique. The weather had been favorable, and the ship had made good time, but somehow they were unable to catch more than a distant glimpse of the _Fleur de Mer_, though the Pearl sported all the canvas she could in the effort.

"A few more hours an' we'd have had 'em," said Jack, collapsing the spyglass and stowing it away in his pocket. "Now they're too close to Fort-de-France. We'll have to do this another way. A bit o' stealth an' all. Unfortunately, they'll know I'm coming, for if I've seen them they've likely been able to see us!"

"Jack! You will go alone?" exclaimed Harry, fearfully.

"He will not," Norrington said, before Jack could reply. "I shall accompany him."

Jack drew himself up. "Oh, you will, will you? An' what makes you think so? I'd a mind to leave you here to help keep an eye on the Pearl. The boys're my problem to deal with, Commodore."

"And the French are mine, Captain. Will and Gibbs are perfectly capable of taking care of the _Black Pearl_. You, on the other hand, are at present in the employ of the crown, and require rather more looking after in this instance than the ship. Or don't you trust me enough to do my job?"

Jack opened his mouth. Closed it. Then shook his finger at the Commodore, and said, "All right. But remember: I'm in charge. Savvy?"

Norrington smirked. "Of course, Captain."

"Just so we're clear on that point."

"Clear as glass."

"All right, then."

"All right."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The Black Pearl would hover off the coast, out of harm's way, coming in toward shore at dawn each day to watch for a signal from the two men. After rather anxious goodbyes had been said, Jack and James rowed a mile to shore in the jollyboat, secreting it in a little cove a few miles from Fort-de-France, Martinique's principal town. They made their way slowly up over the hills in the moonlight. The vegetation was heavy enough to impede their progress, though not as dense as in the north of the island, around Mount Pelee, where Jack knew it to be thick jungle. "Tussaud's house is a bloody fortress in itself," Jack told Norrington. "I was here once, years ago, an' got meself invited to dinner. Tussaud thought I was a fellow merchant. Had a right splendid time: good food, the best wines, an' the opportunity to lift a few expensive trinkets between courses. Played cards with 'im, too, after."

"How foolish of him," Norrington said, drily.

"Aye," Jack agreed, "But he was younger then. Likely a bit warier, now."

"One would hope he has not grown too wary, however, if the boys have been taken there."

"That's like to be a problem, sure enough. But I'm hoping we'll be able to find a back way in."

"We are neither of us precisely inconspicuous, however."

"Speak for yourself, Commodore. Anyway, it's only your height an' your voice they'll notice, since you're wigless and dressed in a civilian's clothes. Just keep your head down an' let me do the talking."

"They speak French, don't they?"

"Aye, and they'll notice an English accent within a few words so be quiet, savvy?"

"How do you know you speak the language better than I?" demanded Norrington.

Jack replied in French, to the effect that only a complete idiot wouldn't recognize James for an English Commodore the second he opened his mouth, so he'd better resign himself to keeping it shut, and he could consider that an order.

James sighed. "Oh, very well."

"Once we come up over that next rise we should be able to see something. Come on!"

There was a faint light of dawn in the sky as Jack led the way with some difficulty up to the top of a long, steep hill, thick with scratchy brush and a few trees. He pulled himself up to the top by gripping a convenient branch, and extended a hand to help Norrington up beside him. And then, looking out over the town that lay sloping down before them to the enormous bay, the two stared in gathering surprise and trepidation at the sight that met their eyes.


	12. Something Beginning With 'S'

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's.

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**_Harry & the Pirate: Norrington's Choice_**

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Chapter XII. _…Something Beginning With 'S' _**

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**Ships. Ships of war.

"Holy God, there must be a dozen of 'em!" breathed Jack, finally.

"Only ten," Norrington said, his voice flat.

Jack looked at him, noting the line of his mouth. "Back to bein' the Commodore, eh?"

Norrington looked at the man beside him, and the line of his mouth drew up in reluctant amusement. "That obvious, is it?"

"Aye. As I said, only an idiot wouldn't see it, an' it's a dangerous thing to be, just here an' now, savvy?"

James nodded. Glancing at the menacing fleet again, he observed wryly, "Perhaps in this case it is I who need protection, more than you."

"We'll each watch out for the other, eh?" said Jack, adding, "We'll be wantin' information about that fleet, an' we'll need to fetch those lads out o' Tussaud's house as quick as may be, both risky pieces o' business. I'm likely a bit more familiar with such clandestine doings, so you'll follow my lead, agreed?"

Norrington looked at him again, and nodded. "Agreed. As I said on the ship."

"Good," said Jack, shortly. "Now let's go down an' get some breakfast, an' see what we can find out."

They made their way out of the hills, running across a path that led toward the town within the first few minutes of their descent. The morning air was fresh and cool, and scented with flowers and other vegetation. Presently, however, as they neared the outskirts of Fort-de-France, a new scent wafted toward them on the air.

"Breakfast!" exclaimed Jack happily, and veered off on a side path, following his nose. "Those Frenchies may be fools about some things, but they've got the right idea about good eatin'. Never met a pastry of Anatole's I didn't like, an' we've apparently come on a pack of his relations."

"You truly are a sybarite, aren't you?" said Norrington with some amusement.

"When I've the chance to be so, of course I am. There've been any number o' times in the last twenty years when I could only dream of such things."

"I suppose you are right. One must have sustenance, after all, so why should it not be enjoyable when possible?"

"Precisely. Never did hold with all that nonsense about plain livin'."

"Marriage to Lady Henrietta must suit you admirably."

Jack glanced sidelong at Norrington, and chuckled. "You've no idea, mate!"

Norrington smirked at this, and considered disputing Jack's assertion, but they were coming into town now and the Commodore thought it best to be silent.

Jack concurred, saying quietly, "You let me do the talkin' now. An' it'd help if ye didn't look like someone's stuck a poker up yer arse. The play's the thing, as the bard said. If you can lead 'em to believe you're a bit touched they won't bother tryin' to speak to you."

"Touched?"

"Shhh! Aye. You know: off your head a bit." Jack looked at his companion and sighed. "Too much to ask, eh?"

Norrington glared.

"Well, just be quiet, then," said Jack.

They came up behind some buildings, walked between two of them and found themselves on the road that ran along the harbor front.

"There's the inn where that lovely smell's comin' from," said Jack, starting up the street. But Norrington veered off to cross slowly, purposefully to the harbor, and when Jack noticed he followed, catching up as they reached the stone seawall. For a while the two were silent, studying the warships.

"None alone is a match for the Dauntless," said James, "But together…" His voice trailed off, and there was a crease between his brows.

Jack said, "We'll fetch the lads an' make for Barbados. There're the two new frigates an' that corvette, besides that brigantine, the Reliant. You can see about sendin' 'em out to warn the others. And we'll sail for Port Royal on the next tide.

James frowned. "How do you know about those frigates? That is not yet public knowledge!"

"I ain't the public. It's my business to know such things."

James stared out at the ships, and observed dryly, "The more I learn of you, the more I feel it's as well you carry our Letter of Marque."

"Oh, quite. Let's get breakfast."

Jack turned away from the harbor and sauntered toward the inn, and Norrington followed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Breakfast proved to be interesting, from a culinary and an informational standpoint. Norrington, although declining to feign insanity (murmuring that he would leave that to Jack), suggested he pretend to be deaf. This preserved his dignity yet allowed him to keep silent, absorbing in stone-faced silence the loose talk of the local citizenry when Jack excused himself for a few minutes in the middle of their meal. Norrington was treated to not only the locals' opinion of the flamboyant stranger ("…a little mad, no?"), but also to a brief discussion of how the so beautiful fleet would shortly be on the way to challenge British supremacy in Jamaica. By the time Jack came back to finish his repast (which the pirate praised to the waiter in extravagant and extremely idiomatic French) Norrington had very nearly the sum of it.

On leaving the inn, they slipped down a side street and headed for Tussaud's fortress.

"The governor is from home, it seems, but will return with their naval commander and two more ships in a matter of days. That is what they are waiting for."

"A round dozen, then," said Jack. "You did well, Jamie-lad. We'll make a spy of you yet!"

Norrington sighed at the familiar form of address. "'Jamie-lad'", he said with distaste. "I suppose I should be thankful it's nothing worse, though it seems quite inappropriate just considering we are of an age."

"Oh, are we? An' how would you know? What're you? Thirty?"

"Thirty-two."

"Quite elderly, then. Still, I've a good few years on you, chronologically speakin'. I've about a hundred, if we're talkin' experience."

The Commodore privately thought Jack might be right, although it wouldn't do to admit it, thereby puffing up the Captain to an even greater extent. The man would have been insufferable, at times, if he wasn't so…what? Amusing. Intelligent. Capable. He seemed to revel in acting the part of a fool, then turned around and showed glimpses of steel. The play's the thing, indeed. The man had more layers than an onion. The simile made James chuckle aloud.

"What?" demanded Jack, with a quick look of suspicion.

Norrington's lips twitched. "Nothing. Never mind. Where is this place?"

Tussaud's mansion was on a hill overlooking the city. They elected to walk up the road to it, as there was heavy vegetation all around the area, but they kept a wary eye and ear and left the road at their first glimpse of the tall, rather forbidding gates. Striking out around the perimeter of the walled property, Jack led the way to a discovery he'd made on that previous visit to the merchant's home a few years ago: a small but functional gate in the back wall, half hidden by vines.

"Probably has other bolt-holes, but this one doesn't appear to see much use. We'll wait until dusk, then get inside. I think we can enter the house through the kitchen. They'll be expecting something, but maybe not quite so soon as this."

"Very well," said Norrington. "I shall stand the first watch. We might do well to get caught up on some of the sleep we missed last night."

"My thought precisely, Commodore," said Jack, gracefully disposing himself on the shady grass, his back against a tree.

Norrington, leaning against another tree, raised a brow, and looked down at the pirate. "What happened to 'Jamie-lad'?"

Jack tipped his hat back again and eyed the man. "Thought you objected."

James chuckled at the notion that this made any difference. "James will do," he said.

Jack grinned crookedly. "James it is, then." He pulled the hat forward, again, and added, "An' you've my permission to call me Captain Jack." He chuckled at Norrington's bark of laughter, and settled himself to sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

They took the watch in turns all afternoon, catching up on some much needed rest, and, later, lunching on some good bread and cheese that had found their way into Jack's capacious pockets when they'd been at the inn. For Jack's part, as much as Norrington had so recently been his sworn enemy, he felt quite at ease with the man at this present, and in this situation. Norrington was proving himself to be reliably competent, and gratifyingly quick on the uptake, and, though it was not said outright, the man's concerns and determination were similar to Jack's. Maggie had not been much mentioned, but the little he had said, about her and about the boy Charles, was most telling. And there had been the look that passed between James and Maggie when goodbyes had been said.

Harry had noticed it too, at the time, and they had shared a conspiratorial smile over it. Then Harry's smile had faded to worry again, and she had hugged and kissed Jack fiercely before setting him away from her and straightening, determinedly. God, she was the sweetest thing, and as full of pluck as she could stare even this close to giving birth. He dearly wished he could have seen her little contretemps with Scarlet. And her evident contrition over shooting him, together with her delightfully solicitous care while he'd convalesced, made him feel he was pretty much the luckiest man in the world. Maybe too lucky.

Of course that was the other side of love. He had always placed a high value on life (particularly his own), but now, aware of ill chances and the inscrutable and not always fortuitous workings of fate, there was a certain, ever-present terror at the back of his mind at the thought of harm or death coming to either of them. He could understand, now, how hearts and minds could break with grief, whereas he'd thought such maunderings to be pure self-indulgence in his previous existence. More fool he. One never stopped learning, it seemed.

Perhaps it was the heightened sense of awareness that came with this lesson that informed him, even before Norrington nudged him with a booted foot, that there was danger close at hand late that afternoon. His eyes popped open and he struggled to rise swiftly, drawing his sword. James, too, had his sword out, and the two of them backed away into the deep shadows.

"What is it, do you think?" whispered Jack, and that was all the conversation there was time for. Three armed men came into the clearing (and how they'd got so close with so little noise was anyone's guess), and one of them saw the discarded napkin the food had been wrapped in, then gave the alarm as he caught sight of Jack and James.

The fight was desperate, though mercifully short. They could not chance any of their enemies escaping to inform Tussaud of their presence, but their skill at swordplay and other aspects of battle were such that the sentries were disabled and trussed up within five minutes, slightly hurt but generally in good condition.

"You're all right?" Jack asked Norrington, who'd ended up having to chase one of the men down. The Commodore's civilian clothing was rather worse for the experience, and he had a slight cut on his jaw. Jack took out a handkerchief.

"What?" said Norrington.

"Hold still." Jack cleaned off the blood with care and told him, "It's not much. Don't touch it!" Jack slapped his hand away.

Norrington frowned at him, annoyed and amused both. "Yes, Captain."

Jack gave him a look, but chose to ignore the sardonic tone. "Bloody hell," he swore, stuffing the handkerchief in his pocket again. "We've got to move, now! They'll soon be missing these lads, and we've got to be in and out before that happens."

"It's not yet dusk!"

"It'll be better if I go alone. One can slip in easier than two. You'll stay and…"

"No," said Norrington. "We'll go together or not at all. Let's get that door open."

Jack hesitated, but then nodded.

It was a matter of minutes before they got the door open, stiff at the hinges from little use. Norrington went through first, and Jack turned to their captives and shook his finger at them, saying in French, "You stay there and be quiet, my friends," and give them a wink, and a grin at their outraged looks and muffled curses before he too disappeared through the door.

They slipped around the perimeter of the vast lawns, edged with tropical shrubs and palms, disabling another sentry with easy efficiency before gaining a back entrance to the mansion.

Opening the door a crack, they found it was the kitchen, and a great bustle of activity was afoot.

"Dinnertime," Jack observed, watching longingly as the chef added a garland of herbs to a platter of roast meat. He reluctantly closed the door again, shutting off the delicious scents, and said, "There has to be another way in. Come on."

Keeping to the shadows, they worked their way around and finally found what they were looking for: a few steps down led to a cellar door, which, when they tried it, opened quite easily.

The next half hour was tense as they made their way silently into the house and began a stealthy search for Tussaud's _donjon_, which he'd been on about the last time Jack had been in this house. "Fair gave me the shivers, hearin' 'im speak of it as light as he did. Has a proper set of cells for holdin' 'is captives, and an oubliette for special guests."

"Good God," Norrington said, quite horrified. "We must get those boys with all speed!"

"Isn't that what we've been doin' then? Quiet now—or if you must speak be sure it's French: I think we're close, and there may be a sentry."

They had come down a dimly lit hallway, and around a corner at its end they could see a brighter light glowing. Approaching carefully, they peeked around and saw what they'd been looking for: a heavy wooden door at a dead end. The guard was a young man sitting in a chair, reading a book by the light of a good lantern. He had the chair tipped back against the wall, and was quite absorbed in his reading, but there was a drawn sword laid across his lap.

Jack gave one nod to Norrington and strode down the corridor toward the sentry at a moderate pace. The Commodore followed, close behind.

The young man looked up from his book at their approach and it was a moment before he realized they were strangers. He then jumped to his feet, dropping the book but retaining the sword, but instead of facing his foes he reached for a thin rope that hung nearly invisible against the stone wall.

"No!" yelped Jack, rushing him, but it was too late.

The sentry grabbed the rope and gave it one swift, hard pull, let it go and turned to face Jack and James as a peal of bells was heard faintly, on the floor above.

"Bloody hell!" Jack swore, and with a display of skill that startled Norrington and terrified his opponent, he attacked and disarmed the sentry with a few precise strokes of his sword, teeth bared with concentration. He concluded the engagement with a blow to the man's head that sent him reeling. Jack let James take care of tying the man's wrists while he tried the door, then looked for a key. None being visible, he turned to kneel by the dazed sentry and began checking his pockets.

"I don't have it," the man said, groggy but aware of Jack's purpose.

Jack grabbed the front of his shirt and shook him a little. "Where is it?" he demanded.

But Norrington, who'd got up, sword at the ready, said, "Too late. They're coming."

The sound of heavy feet on stone came to their ears, drawing quickly closer.

Trapped. Jack turned back to the sentry. "Sorry, my friend, but needs must, eh?" He set his sword at the man's throat, and Norrington, seeing what the pirate was about, came to stand beside him.

There were a half-dozen of them, and as they rounded the corner into the corridor, Jack yelled out, "Stay where you are, jackals, or I will slit the little one's throat!"

But the leader, a cruel-looking fellow, as tall as Norrington but far more muscular, barked, "Do it, then! Lads, have at them!"

With only the slightest pause, their enemies came on. Norrington's face drained of all emotion except deadly determination, but, for a moment, Jack's expression of horror was a mirror of his captive's. Then he shrugged, accepting the situation for what it was (their deaths, most likely), put a feral grin on his face, and set to work.

It was an interesting battle, for the ruffians were under orders to bring the intruders back alive and unharmed, if at all possible. Then there was the lack of space, some of which was taken up by the chair and the tied sentry on the floor, who kept trying to avoid heavy, booted feet and only succeeded in tripping up friend and foe alike. Jack and James both fought desperately, and managed to injure three of Tussaud's men, but finally the leader was able to stun James with a hamlike fist. Grabbing the shaken Commodore, the lout quickly rounded on Jack and, using Norrington as a kind of shield, slammed his body against the pirate. Jack lost his balance, hit the wall, and dropped his sword, much to his chagrin. Cursing his ill luck and his enemies with Gallic vehemence, Jack struggled furiously but was unable to retrieve his weapon before it was kicked out of his reach. Hard hands closed on him, and it was over.

"Well, my little cabbages," grinned the leader, when Jack and James were hauled up between two ruffians apiece, knives at their throats, "you have caused a great deal of trouble this evening, and during the dinner hour, too! Monsieur Tussaud will not be pleased. We shall repair to the dining room and see what he has in mind for such impolite guests, eh?"

The whole party made its way out of the narrow labyrinth of passages, the injured ruffians being relieved by a few of their comrades who'd come too late to the fray. Jack and James were not tied, but by the time they entered the enormous dining hall they each had three guards apiece, armed with a wide assortment of swords, knives, and pistols, and there were a number of Tussaud's men following them as well. There was no chance to exchange more than a glance but, having managed that, they were each aware that the other was more or less uninjured. Unfortunately, this did not look to hold true for much longer.

There were only a few diners, but the identities of three of their number were quite enough to make Jack's hair stand on end. Tussaud was there, looking older and more depraved than ever, his oily countenance adorned with cold little black eyes and a pitiless smile. Then there were two acquaintances from Jack's more recent past: the captain of the _Vaillant_, who was almost unrecognizable he'd grown so thin and sallow; and Beauvais, former master of Jack's valet Alphonse, his face pink with outrage.

Beauvais spoke first. "By all that's unholy! This is the loathsome criminal that took my belongings and nearly killed me! Everything! My valet, as well! You remember me telling you, Emile?"

"I remember, my friend. I've brought him here as a little gift for you, and for my brother-in-law." Tussaud nodded at the captain of the _Vaillant_ and said to Jack, "Yes, Sparrow. You did not think to ask whom it was you so foolishly abused at the sinking of my ship, did you?"

"This is the wretch?" demanded the dark lady sitting next to Tussaud. She looked rather like him in certain ways, down to a faint moustache on her upper lip. "_Voyons_, Emile! I demand that you have him disembowled!"

"In good time, my love," said Tussaud. He said to Jack, with unctuous politeness, "My wife, Sparrow. Or should I call you 'Monsieur Oiseaux'?"

Madame Tussaud gobbled a bit and then swore foully. "It _is_ him! The one who took my emeralds!"

"Yes, it is our so memorable dinner guest of years past. He has been long been in our debt, and, when I made the connection between him and your brother's and Beauvais' reports of the infamous Sparrow I felt it was time to invite him to enjoy our hospitality. Only for a few days, however, for I see he has brought a friend. Consorting with pirates, rather than killing them, these days, are you Commodore Norrington?"

Jack, startled, gaped over at Norrington.

The Commodore felt his friend's gaze, but wore his coolest look as he faced Tussaud and replied, "It seems there is another here who has more than one name, _Gaillard_."

Tussaud chuckled. "So you remember me from the reception. Yes, our so dear Governor here in Fort-de-France allows me to accompany him on various diplomatic excursions from time to time, though I prefer to keep that life and this separate. Hence, I am the Count Galliard in official circles, and Tussaud the merchant in the world of commerce."

"Tussaud the crime lord, ye mean!" snapped Jack. "That emerald necklace had gone missing from the DeVries family coffers years ago! And Beauvais' 'nearly killed' business is a pack of lies: he challenged me to a duel, all fair and above board. His lack of skill ain't my fault! And as for your brother-in-law, I don't know why he's lookin' so frayed at the edges but you can't lay that at my door: I only gave him a dozen lashes, when God knows he deserved the full extent of Moses Law, if not more! Five men died from his stupidity!"

"Enough!" Tussaud snapped, and gave a curt nod.

The burly head of the guards stepped over and drew Jack's head back, pressing a razor-sharp knife to the pirate's neck. A thin, red line appeared under the blade, and Jack stilled, eyes wide with both fear and anger, his teeth set.

Tussaud said, "Do not kill him, Vercheroux. He is not for you, or even for me. The Governor will be so very pleased to have a pair of English spies to question on his return."

"You will do nothing?" Madame Tussaud demanded of her husband, the nostrils of her aquiline nose flaring.

And Madame's brother exclaimed in a voice of loathing, "Emile, I must have my revenge! He had me flogged like some common scum!"

"Patience, my beloveds. And you, too, Beauvais, calm yourself: you look as though you will explode, which is not at all permissible at my dinner table." Tussaud turned to Jack again, and smiled. "You are a noisy bird, are you not? Your babbling is less than nothing, although I will tell you this: when you had my wife's brother's back torn to shreds and threw him into the sea you made your last great error. By the time he was returned to us, he was sick nearly to death from a poisoning of the blood. It is only recently he has been able to join us here at the table, but I am very happy he is with us this evening, when you, too, have joined us in so timely a manner. The taking of the young boys was such an excellent enticement, was it not?"

In spite of the knife at his throat, Jack growled, "Let them go, Tussaud. You have me. And the Commodore has done nothing!"

"He is with you: that is quite enough," Tussaud said, with deadly calm. "The boys will be sold, at the slave market. They should fetch a good price, as pretty as they are, don't you agree?" Tussaud, smiled wider. "As for you, my so bothersome bird, we have a few days to pluck some of your feathers, and so long as I turn you over alive the Governor will not mind." He turned to his brother-in-law and Beauvais. "Tomorrow morning, a hundred lashes, eh? Will that make a good beginning?"

Madame's brother nodded, finally smiling a little, and she herself sneered, and looked Jack over thoughtfully.

Beauvais looked a little sick. "It is very well, but…"

"You do not have to watch, my friend. I know the delicacy of your stomach."

Jack, quite numb with horror, found his voice. "A hundred! It's a death sentence!"

"Oh, no," Tussaud assured, gently, "We will take the greatest care not to let you die, I assure you. The Governor will undoubtedly oblige us in that regard, _hein_? For you have not only done injury to me and mine, Sparrow: the Governor's shipment of his favorite brandy was on the ship that carried my friend Beauvais. And some time ago the Governor's new cook, the renowned Anatole, went missing, and I have an idea you know something of this as well. No, the Governor will be most anxious to make your acquaintance, and that of your friend, the English Commodore." Tussaud, obviously enjoying himself, said, "But you will see that I am not without mercy. I will give you a night with the little boys, and you may tell them what they will be witness to on the morrow, eh? Vercheroux, take our guests and put them in the same cell. No need to tie them: no one has ever escaped Tussaud's embrace."


	13. Lady Luck

**Disclaimer:** Mostly Disney's.

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**_Harry & the Pirate: Norrington's Choice_**

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**Chapter XIII. Lady Luck**

Jack righted himself with some difficulty and sat, leaning against the rough wall, holding his hand protectively over the aggravated wound on his arm. He looked at the others. Owens wore a horrified expression but appeared to be uninjured. Charles, however, had a crude bandage around his forehead, and there was some bruising visible along the side of his face. Norrington was leaning against the grated front of the cell, gingerly working at what was probably a broken tooth, and frowning down at Jack. The Commodore finally removed the piece of tooth and examined it in the dim light.

"How very annoying," he commented with a grimace, before tossing it away in evident disgust. He turned to Charles. "Are you all right, lad?"

For a moment Charles flushed, and his chin trembled, but he took a shaky breath and nodded. "Y-you came for us!" he said, as though he didn't quite believe it.

Norrington raised a brow, and smiled a little. "Did you think we would not?"

"I thought…I wondered…" But he could not go on, and Norrington, seeing it, went to him.

Jack watched Norrington embrace the boy, and lead him off to the opposite corner of the cell where they sat down on the straw-covered floor together. And then Owens was there, crouching down beside him, looking distressed, and Jack smiled crookedly. "All right, then?"

"Sir! What happened? Did they hurt you?"

"Not so much," Jack said. "Fella grabbed me arm is all, an' it's still a mite sore—Lady Harry caught me with a stray bullet a few days ago."

"What!" Owens stared wide-eyed.

"Sit down here an' I'll tell you," said Jack. Owens sat, cross-legged, facing him, and Jack proceeded to tell the boy just what mayhem had been afoot in his absence. Charles, hearing Jack telling the story in his amusing way, and Owens's exclamations and questions, gradually regained his composure, although he did not move from Norrington's side. Jack concluded the story by saying, "…so Tussaud's devils dragged us off to the dining room to meet with him. Couple of other fellows I knew there too. And his wife—have you seen her? Oddly hirsute for a Frenchwoman—guess she don't fancy waxing, like so many of 'em do."

"Waxing?" Owens inquired.

"The Frenchwomen—at least the highborn ones—have their dressers melt wax and spread it over their skin, wherever they don't want hair. Legs, an' upper lips, an'…uh…well, other places. And then, when it cools, the dresser rips it right off, and the hair comes with it."

"Ugh!" Owens grimaced, and Charles turned to Norrington in shocked fascination. His mentor nodded, only just preserving his gravity.

"Aye. Hurts like the devil. From what they tell me, that is." Jack rolled an eye at the Commodore.

Gathering from the look that somehow Jack had first hand experience in such matters, Norrington raised a brow, and then began to laugh, helplessly. The boys joined in, uncertainly, and Jack grinned too, although Norrington could swear the pirate was actually reddening under his bronzed complexion. Norrington made a real effort to stifle his laughter, not wishing to draw the attention of the guard that was undoubtedly stationed outside the door. Gaining a little control, he wiped his eyes and said, "Oh my God. You are beyond belief. After all this…and…well. Tomorrow."

"What about tomorrow?" said Owens, his smile fading.

Norrington sobered rather quickly, and, noticing Charles's sudden worry, gave his shoulders a slight squeeze. The Commodore looked at Jack.

The pirate hid his fear behind a calm voice and a cheeky smile. "Tomorrow. Well, ye never know about tomorrow, do you now? It may be that there'll be a bit of rough weather to get through. Tussaud doesn't much like me, I have to say, which is why he took you boys. And I'm sorry for it. I can see that young Charles here has been ill-used by the blackguards, and you too I suppose, Owens?"

Owens shrugged, quite in Jack's manner, and said, "It was nothing. But what will they do with you, Captain?"

"I'll be all right." And seeing Norrington's sardonic look, Jack added lightly, "You never know what'll happen between the drop an' the stop, eh?"

Norrington stared at the man sitting across the way, admiration contained in his gaze. And pity.

Jack leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting his smile fade.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was two in the morning, by Jack's guess, when, to his surprise, he was awakened by some sound.

He had thought sleep would remain a stranger to him this night, for, though he'd put a bold face on it, the thought of what might be coming to him in the morning was more than enough to chase Morpheus away. He'd seen men flogged like that before, and there were scars on his own back that gave evidence of his own brief but all too intimate acquaintance with the cat. He'd seen the look Norrington had given him: as though he was something out of the ordinary because he chose to ignore the fear that felt like a live thing in his belly. No use in weeping and wailing about it, though, and scaring the little lads beforehand. Time enough for that after. If he lived. Of course Tussaud had promised to see to that, hadn't he?

But there was that sound again. Jack opened his eyes. Norrington and young Charles were still leaning against each other, dim shapes in the darkness, asleep. Owens stirred against Jack's own side, murmuring and then sitting up.

"What is it?" the boy whispered.

Jack shook his head. "Don't know. Listen."

There were voices now. Women?

Across the big room which contained the gaol cells, the hole that was the entrance to the oubliette (thankfully unoccupied at present), and a variety of devices designed for the sole purpose of causing the maximum amount of discomfort to whomever was so unfortunate as to be 'embraced' by Tussaud, Jack could see the heavy wooden door, the only method of egress, and, to his wonderment, he heard a key turning in the lock. He rose to his feet, and Owens stood up too, catching Jack's coat sleeve in his fingers.

Norrington opened his eyes now. He nudged Charles, then got up and came to Jack. "It is not yet morning."

"No," agreed Jack.

Charles came to stand by the Commodore. The four of them watched as the door opened a crack, and then wider, admitting beams of light. And then the door opened even wider, and two cloaked women came in, the first holding a lantern, the second a serviceable pistol.

"You are Capitaine Sparrow?" said the lady with the lantern.

"Yes, Madame," said Jack, eyeing the pistol warily. The woman holding it was nearly as tall as he was himself, and rather heftier, and when she tossed back the hood of her cloak it was seen that she was what was referred to as a 'handsome' woman.

The shorter woman with the lantern removed her hood as well, revealing a resemblance to the other, though she was built on more compact lines. "I am Amelie Guerinot," she said in a soft, calm tone. "This is my sister, Louise." She turned to her sister and said, "Put the pistol away, Louise! They cannot harm us from behind the door!"

"Me, I do not trust men even then," said Louise. "Perhaps they are knaves!"

Norrington spoke in his awkwardly accented French. "I assure you, Madame, we would not think to harm you. But what can we do for you?"

Louise was a little mollified by his polite words. "I see that you at least are a gentleman, but what about this scoundrel, eh? Capitaine Sparrow, indeed! Why he is nothing but a pirate, Amelie!"

"Madame," said Jack in his most persuasive tones, "I am entirely at your service! If you will but unlock the door…"

"Yes, Louise," said Amelie. "There is no time! We must trust them. We must!"

Louise appeared to grind her teeth, and then muttered, "Ah, this is madness!" She narrowed her eyes at Jack and said, "Very well! But if you act falsely I will shoot you dead, _hein_?"

"Never in life, Madame Louise!" said Jack, holding up his hands and spreading his fingers.

"I will tell you quickly," said Amelie, taking a key from her pocket and beginning to try to unlock the door. "I am Madame Tussaud's dresser, and my sister is head cook for the Governor. Although I have not been treated harshly, I have not been happy in my position here: there are things that go on in this house—terrible things!—of which I cannot approve. And that man! Beauvais! He has been a guest for weeks and…well, his manners are not those of a gentleman!"

"The snake throws himself at her!" Louise said, disgusted. "As though she would deign to look at such an one! Amelie, let me try!"

Amelie had not yet succeeded with the lock, and as Louise reached to take the key, it dropped to the floor. Quick as thought, Jack squatted and reached through the bars, snatching it up. As he rose again he said with an appealing smile, "I'll try, if ye don't mind—I'm something of an expert with locks."

Amelie hesitated a moment, but then said, "Very well." She motioned her sister back. Louise complied, but raised the pistol again, and gave a little gasp as Jack opened the lock with no difficulty and pushed the door open.

"_Vraiment_! An expert indeed!" said Louise coldly. "You have vast experience with the locks of gaols then."

"As you suspected, Madame," said Jack with a grin. "I take it ye want to leave the Governor's employ, same as your sister wishes to leave Madame Tussaud's?"

"Yes," said Louise, and for the first time she sounded a little less confident. "I have worked for him since I was a girl, you understand. I began as a lowly kitchen maid, years ago, and learned to cook from whomever would teach me. I have an aptitude for the culinary arts, and advanced to master chef in the household. But then, a year ago, that villain of a Governor sent to France for a new chef, the so famous Anatole! As though my cooking is inferior, because I am a woman! Bah! I spit upon this Anatole! "

Owens opened his mouth to protest, but Jack gave him a warning nudge and he subsided. Norrington had placed a hand on Charles's shoulder.

Louise went on. "Fortunately he was captured by pirates and done away with. Good riddance! But it is only a matter of time before the Governor sends to France once more. He has no appreciation of my skill! Not in the least. Therefore I will leave him."

Amelie said, "My sister is a marvelous cook, and we have heard that the British are in need of such. We beg that you will take us with you, so that we may begin new lives. But even if you will not, we will let you go. We could not let the little boys come to harm, and no man is deserving of the kind of treatment Tussaud metes out."

Louise narrowed her eyes and waved the pistol a bit as she said, "They will take us!"

"Indeed we shall, Madame!" Norrington assured her.

"Yes, of course!" Jack agreed, thinking that he'd had quite enough of ladies carrying loaded pistols lately. "But we should hurry, don't you think?"

"Yes. Come then. Your weapons are in the hall," said Amelie, and Louise finally lowered the pistol as Jack and Norrington rushed past, followed by the boys.

Their swords and other confiscated items were in a bundle on the floor in the hall by the sentry, who appeared to be deeply asleep.

"Drugged?" Jack asked the ladies.

"Yes," said Louise. "I know many herbal remedies and potions. It was as nothing. He will sleep, then awaken with a terrible head at midmorning."

"That right?" Jack said, "You are a woman of great resource, Madame. I shall take pains to avoid your wrath!"

Louise nodded, pleased. "It is well, pirate."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Amelie led the party in careful silence by a circuitous route to a laundry room and thence out an obscure side door. They encountered no one in crossing the gardens, although they were careful to keep to the deep shadows, and to keep talk at a minimum. Amelie led them to the same door in the wall through which Jack and James had entered the property the previous evening.

"This is excellent!" Amelie exclaimed. "I had feared we would have difficulty with this door, for it is not often used."

Emerging from Tussaud's property, Jack said, "It's only three hours from dawn by the look of things. We've got to be at the cove to signal the Pearl by then or we'll miss the rendezvous and have to hide all day. Tussaud's like to be more than a bit put out at havin' his fun curtailed: avoiding him might be a bit difficult."

"Oh, he and Madame will both be furious! And Madame's brother: he has spoken of little but revenge since he came to us a month back. I think his illness was more than half due to damaged pride!"

"Could be," Jack shrugged. "Takes some fellas like that. I've seen it before."

"Come," said Louise, impatiently. "We must hurry! Where is the rendezvous point?"

"A little cove just over the hills from Fort-de-France."

Norrington said, grimly, "We may not make it in time if we retrace our steps. Perhaps there is a shorter way?"

Amelie and Louise knew of none, however, so they continued on, as quickly and quietly as possible, back to the road leading to Fort-de-France from Tussaud's lair. Stepping onto the exposed road stretched the nerves of all members of the party. They encountered no one, however, and presently they began to converse in low voices as they hurried along.

While Norrington kept Louise occupied with small talk, Amelie said to Jack, "Voyons! It will be good to have a new employer. Madame's toilette gave me little scope for genius: she is impatient in matters of grooming. Moreover, she has a fondness for black clothing—the Spanish influence at work, you understand. Her mother was of the pure Castilian blood."

"Ah," Jack said. "That explains it."

"Yes," agreed Amelie. "A true daughter of the Inquisition." She shuddered. "To think that Our Lord's message can be twisted in such a way!"

"Oh, quite. You'll be lookin' for work as a lady's maid then? I happen to know of a lady who's in the market for one."

"_Vraiment_? And is she a good and true lady? For I will not consider any less. My sister is a superb cook, and, though I say it myself, I am a superb dresser. We Guerinot's will no longer settle for society's dregs."

"Dregs, is it?" Jack chuckled. "I wonder what Tussaud and the Governor would have to say to that?"

Amelie sniffed. "Quality is not a matter of money or power. I heard that you called Tussaud a crimelord, and it is no more than the truth. And the Governor is hand in glove with him."

"Well, if we get off this island we'll see what we can do about the two of 'em. But as to the lady: she's as good and true as they come. She's my wife!"

"Wife? You are married?" Amelie asked, surprised.

"Aye. She's English. The sister of the Governor of Port Royal, and a former Duchess. We've been married less than a year. She's with child, as well."

"English. I have heard they are a little dull. Saving your presence, of course."

Owens, beside them, gave a slight snort of laughter.

"I wouldn't call her dull," said Jack, grinning. "But you shall judge for yourself. She's on the _Black Pearl_, waiting for us."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The fact that they did not need to come into the town saved them some time, but the moon was setting as they climbed the hills back toward the cove.

Madame Louise swore in a most unladylike manner. "These skirts are impossible in this terrain! If only I were a man. I could then wear breeches and save myself great annoyance."

Amelie said, amused, "Oh, Louise, you know you would miss toying with the men of the Governor's staff!" Amelie said to Jack and Norrington, in a teasing voice, "My sister is a great flirt, you understand."

Norrington's brows lifted and he and Jack exchanged a startled look at the picture this conjured up.

"Amelie!" said Louise, pretending to be severe, "You will give these men a bad impression of my character."

"No, no," murmured Norrington. "I assure you."

"Well, it is true that I enjoy men a great deal. They have such nonsensical ways. I find them highly amusing. Except for this villain, Anatole. I am glad he was taken by pirates, for it saved me from slitting his throat."

"Captain!" Owens, tugged Jack's sleeve fearfully.

Jack said, "Er…perhaps this Anatole isn't as bad a man as you're thinking, Madame."

"Perhaps," Louise conceded, "but chefs of that caliber are usually quite insufferable. I know, me."

"Look!" exclaimed Charles, as they gained the top of a ridge. "Is that the cove?" He walked out a few feet to the side and Owens came up with him. "I think I can see…" But then he yelped as the earth beneath him began to give way. He tried to scramble back to firmer ground, but only succeeded in pulling Owens down as well, and then the two of them were sliding swiftly into a ravine twenty feet below the others, their yells of alarm echoing in the dark until they were cut off abruptly as they hit the bottom.

"Bloody hell!" Jack exclaimed, searching for a safer way to follow them.

"Charles! Owens! Say something!" demanded Norrington.

"I'm all right," came Owens shaken voice, "But I think…"

"My arm!" Charles said, and the pain in his voice was unmistakable.

It took the others a little while to find a safe way down to where the boys were, and by the time they reached them Charles was sitting up, but he was gasping and near to tears.

"Charles!" said Norrington, dismayed at this turn of events. He went to the boy and knelt beside him, and Jack went to his other side after ascertaining that Owens's only distress was due to his friend's injury. The ladies stood together, holding hands tightly in sympathy and worry.

They could barely see in the dim light.

"Hold 'im an' I'll see how bad it is," Jack said matter-of-factly.

"Do you know how to set bones?" Norrington asked doubtfully, putting his arm around Charles and holding him tightly.

Charles stiffened and leaned into the Commodore, giving a strangled sound that could not quite be described as a whimper as Jack took his arm in gentle hands.

"Hush, lad. Try to relax, though this is like to hurt a bit." He began to feel along it carefully. "Aye, I can set 'em if it's a simple break, though Gibbs is better. We don't often carry a ship's surgeon, so we have to make do ourselves, don't we?" Charles was quiet now, though trembling a little with the effort and with shock. "Good lad," Jack said, finally, putting the arm down carefully.

Jack said to Charles and Norrington, "It'll hurt a good deal less when it's splinted. I'd rather try and reach the ship, and have Gibbs set it. We've laudanum we can give you, too, lad: you won't feel a thing."

"That would be an improvement," said Charles, a little weak, but still game, and he managed a small smile when the two men chuckled.

Owens crouched down and gave his friend's ankle a comradely squeeze. "He'll be all right, then?"

"He'll do," said Jack. "Let's you and I find something to use as a splint, eh?" He stood up and turned to the ladies. "We'll be as quick as we can, Mesdames."

"Is there anything we can do?" Amelie asked.

Her sister said, "I shall tear strips from my petticoat to tie the little splint."

"A generous thought, Madame Louise. And perhaps you can keep an eye out for pursuit, Madame Amelie. It's starting to get light."

It was. This made it much easier to locate appropriate material to splint the arm, but everyone began to feel more exposed, and nervous about missing the rendezvous. However, within a very few minutes Norrington was helping Charles to his feet, and the whole party moved off, albeit at a slower pace than before.

Though the sun would take some time to rise above the eastern hills, the sky had turned a far lighter blue when they finally reached the sheltered cove where they'd hidden the jollyboat. The _Black Pearl_ was visible a half mile off shore.

"And a pretty sight she is!" Jack exclaimed happily.

The ladies made Charles sit down on a conveniently placed rock, and Owens and the Commodore uncovered the boat. Jack went to the water's edge, pulled his knife from his belt, and tried to catch enough light with the polished blade to signal the ship. At first it didn't seem to be working, but finally there was an answering flash.

"They've seen it!"

"Let's go!" Norrington exclaimed. He strode over and picked up Charles.

Owens scrambled into the boat and moved out of the way as Jack helped the ladies. "It'll be a bit of a squeeze, here," he commented. "We'd've brought the longboat if we'd known we'd have a couple of guests."

"It is no matter," Amelie assured him, seating herself.

"So long as we don't sink!" added Louise, sounding a little nervous. "Me, I cannot swim!"

"Pray God it don't come to that, then," muttered Jack, a horrible image of himself trying to aid Madame in the water coming to him unbidden.

They did not sink, though it was a long and tiring row for the men with the added weight. Once away from the shelter of the cove, a fresh breeze could be felt, and the water grew choppier, which also impeded their progress.

When they were halfway there, Owens exclaimed, "It looks like everyone's standing at the rail, waiting for us! Hello!" The boy popped to his feet and waved an arm.

"Bloody hell! Sit down!" Jack said angrily, looking up. "If you fall over the damned sharks can have you!"

"Sorry sir," said Owens, subsiding.

But something else had caught Jack's eye. "Norrington! Look! Rounding the point there." He stopped rowing for a moment and pointed.

Norrington stopped too, and looked. It was a long way off, but unmistakable. "Good God. It's one of the ships!"

"Looks like it's headed this way," Jack said, grimly. "Let's move."

They did, pulling for all they were worth. The _Black Pearl_ had sailed in as close as was possible, but there were dangerous reefs hereabouts and Jack was thankful they held back, just waiting. And finally, their patience and the hard work of the men paid off: to the sound of happy calls and whistles, they reached the _Black Pearl_, with the French ship still a half mile off.

Owens was first up the ladder, scurrying up monkeylike. "We're all safe!" he announced, "But Charles has broken his arm!"

"Oh no!" Lady Margaret exclaimed, a mixture of worry and relief in her voice, and leaned far over the railing to watch as Norrington helped Charles climb, slowly and awkwardly.

Gibbs stepped forward to take Charles as he reached the top. "Broken yer arm, young Charles! Nurse Maria will be a mite upset to hear it! We'd best get it taken care of as soon as may be."

Norrington, who'd followed Charles onto the ship, said, "Yes, Jack said you would know what to do." And then he looked at Lady Margaret, who turned to him. Concern for his bruised, disheveled state came into her face, and admiration, and love into her eyes.

"James!" she said, almost in a whisper.

And to the considerable surprise and delight of the company, they fell into each other's arms and kissed.

Madame Amelie was next, followed closely by her sister, and Norrington left off his rather delightful interlude with Margaret to help and introduce them. "We would have been in dire straits indeed without the aid of these ladies," he remarked. "Jack in particular owes them a great deal for their timely intervention. But no doubt he will like to tell that story himself."

"Aye!" said Jack, coming up over the railing and handing the rope attached to the jollyboat to a grinning Will, "but it'll have to wait 'til we've put that Frenchie ship in our wake. I believe they're readying their guns as we speak. Where's Harry?"

"Here!" said Jack's lady, in an odd voice, and, coming forward, threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest, trembling.

"Harry, love, what's this!" said Jack, surprised. "We're safe, and all's well!" He kissed the top of her head.

She pulled away slightly, and said in a ravaged voice, "Oh, I know and I'm so very glad you are all right. But Jack: all is not well! I'm afraid I'm having the baby!"

And seeing his horrified look, she burst into tears.


	14. From the Frying Pan to the Fire

Disclaimer: Disney's, mostly.

**  
Harry & the Pirate: Norrington's Choice**

**_  
XIV. From the Frying Pan to the Fire _**

"Harry! No!"

"Yes! And it is too s-soon! Oh, my baby! My poor baby!"

Harry clung to him, sobbing, and Jack began to look rather frantic. Lady Margaret disengaged herself from James and went to them. She gave Harry's arm a little shake and scolded gently, "Harry, no! You must not do this! You must calm yourself or chance doing harm to the both of you." Margaret looked at Jack and said, "I've told her your calculations may have been incorrect. From what she tells me you were together for a whole month when your crew was stricken with illness."

"Aye, that's true. D'you hear that, love?"

Harry lifted her face from Jack's chest. "Y-yes." She forced herself to straighten, took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at him. "Oh, Jack, I am so glad you are returned safely! Do you have a handkerchief?"

He pulled the wadded, lace-edged cloth from his pocket. "It's got blood on it, I'm afraid."

She took it anyway, saw that it was only slightly soiled, found a clean spot, and blew her nose. "Is it _your_ blood?" she asked, a slightly militant tone in her voice.

"No, James's. Are you all right? Does it hurt dreadfully?"

"No, of course not. Not yet, at least. It only began two hours ago." She gave another little quaking sniff and said, imploringly, "Do you really think the baby will be well?"

"He's my son, ain't he?" said Jack, in his more usual tone.

"What if it's a girl?"

"Well…she's your daughter, then, eh?" He smiled crookedly, and, seeing her answering smile, kissed her.

James said in a cool, amused tone, "As reluctant as I am to interrupt your reunion, I feel I must point out that the French ship is nearing, and is indeed readying her guns from what I can see."

Jack turned his head to look out at the approaching ship and his smile turned feral. "By God it is, then. Harry, get below to the cabin. Elizabeth, you'll accompany her, if ye please."

But Harry, having turned to look too, suddenly forgot her worries in her excitement at the prospect of seeing the _Black Pearl_ in action. "May we stay on deck to watch?" she asked.

"Yes," said Elizabeth, "I want to help! You know I am quite capable of it."

Jack's eyes flashed fire. He snapped at Harry, "You will bloody well get down to that cabin and stay there, Ma'am, an' that's an order! As for you…" he turned to Elizabeth, but was interrupted.

"Capitaine!" said Louise, "If you will allow me to accompany Madame, I would be most honored." She turned to Harry and curtsied. "I am Amelie Guerinot, your new lady's maid."

Harry's mulish look turned to a smile. "Oh! I am so very pleased to meet you! Jack, how thoughtful of you!"

"Aye, it was, wasn't it?" he agreed. "We've a new cook, as well: Madame Louise, Madame Amelie's sister."

"A new cook!" came an outraged Gallic voice. Anatole pushed through the crowd around Jack, looking most offended.

Jack grinned. "Anatole! Ye know we'd never replace you, you old villain."

"_Anatole!_" Louise Guerinot looked first at the newcomer in patent loathing, then turned to Jack, murder in her eye. "_You_ are the pirate who captured this…this…"

"I am!" Jack growled, "an' if ye try cuttin' 'is throat I'll bloody feed ye to the sharks a bit at a time, savvy?" Satisfied that Madame Louise looked appropriately surprised and intimidated, he made introductions in a milder but still brisk tone. "Madame, the 'so famous' Anatole. Anatole, Madame Louise Guerinot, formerly head cook for the Governor of Martinique. Ye'll please to go down to the galley while we take care o' these belligerent countrymen of yours and make the biggest and best breakfast the both of you can contrive for us. We're bloody famished!"

Louise looked at Anatole, rather as though he were an insect she was thinking of squashing. Anatole, however, was looking her over, as well, and obviously liked what he saw. Louise's expression lightened somewhat.

Anatole said to her, "Madame, if you will accompany me, I will show you my galley. As fine as it is, it would be most enhanced by your presence."

Somewhat mollified by his evident admiration, she sniffed, "Very well," and with a parting glare at Jack (who met it with narrowed eyes and a raised brow) she departed with her fawning peer.

"Well, that went better than expected," Jack said. He looked around and saw that it was time to have done with all this excessive civility. In his Captain's Voice, he barked, "Harry! Amelie! Get below with Alphonse, _now_! Gibbs, you'll take care of Charles—Lady Margaret can help you, and Norrington, too, unless he'd rather help blast these dogs to hell?"

"No," said James, turning to follow Gibbs, Charles, and Margaret. "I feel you and the Turners are quite capable of doing so without my assistance."

Jack laughed and said, "Aye, we are."

Elizabeth looked at Jack, and at Will, eagerly. "I can stay?"

Will gave a worried sigh and a roll of his eyes, and looked at Jack.

But Jack shook his head. "You knew what she was when ye married her, mate."

Will laughed, too, at that. "So I did," he agreed, meeting his wife's smile with one of his own.

Jack wiped the smile from his own face, and began barking orders to his crew.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Trailed by her keepers, Harry hurriedly made her way across the deck to the companionway. "Perhaps we can see at least some of the battle if we open the windows," she said over her shoulder before descending the steps, for all the world as though they were all being deprived of a high treat.

Amelie exchanged a look with Alphonse. "_Voyons!_ I think Madame Sparrow is of the same temperament as her so amusing husband."

"Very much so," agreed the valet. "But we have not yet been introduced, Madame Guerinot. I am Alphonse de Tours. It is a great pleasure to meet so beautiful a colleague."

"Alphonse de Tours! Why you were the valet of that…of Monsieur Beauvrais! He was staying in the house of my employer when I left."

"Ah!" said Alphonse, and his smile faded as he observed the flush on Amelie's face. "I hope he was not the reason you desired to leave, Madame. I know better than most what he is, you see."

Amelie's cheeks grew redder, but she said, "It is as nothing. I am now free of him, and of the Tussauds as well."

"You will enjoy working with the so beautiful Lady Henrietta. She has both the funds and inclination to dress to perfection! Capitaine Sparrow is a little less fastidious, which is sometimes discouraging—his face and figure are suited to any fashion, and would enhance the reputation of even the finest tailor, but he will rarely wear anything but what you have seen him in."

Amelie laughed. "He is an original!"

Alphonse nodded. "As is his lady."

Reaching the foot of the steps, Amelie saw Harry at the other end of the passage, bent over a little, clinging to the doorpull of the cabin. The maid rushed to her, saying, "Ah, Madame! Madame!"

But Harry straightened, panting a little, as the maid and valet approached. "No, I am all right now."

She gave them a smile, but Amelie could see the worry and fear behind it. As they entered the big cabin and her new mistress went to open the windows at the back, the maid said, "Madame, you must not fear. All will be well. Your husband said we go to Barbados, to give warning to the English of the fleet that is gathered on Martinique. There is an excellent English doctor there, but, better than that, the finest midwife in the Caribbean! Madame Joujou. The ladies of Martinique pay her quite outrageous sums to attend them."

"Indeed?" said Harry. "That is most encouraging. How far is Barbados?"

Amelie's smile faltered. "It is, unfortunately, many hours away—I do not know exactly. No more than a day, I think."

"A day. Well, perhaps that will be soon enough." But she sounded doubtful.

But Jack, when he came down after the short but decisive confrontation with the French ship was more encouraging. "With luck and this wind we'll be there by nightfall, if young Sparrow can wait that long. The _Pearl's_ sportin' every bit o' canvas she can take. How are you feeling, love?"

"I'm quite well. But we couldn't see anything out the window until the battle was over!"

Jack strode to the window and looked out, and laughed. The French ship, crippled and drifting, was diminishing behind them. "We did some fine quick work there!" he said. "Raked 'em fore and aft as we sailed by, and they never touched us!"

"It was most exciting, Aunt!" Elizabeth said, as she and Will came in, powder-smudged but smiling.

"While _I_ was confined to quarters!" Harry complained. "Do not taunt me!"

Elizabeth laughed and went over to where Amelie was pouring fresh water into a basin and Alphonse was setting out towels so the combatants could clean up.

A few minutes later, Jack was drying his hands on a towel when there came a rap at the door and Anatole, Madame Louise, and several underlings came in bearing trays loaded with the breakfast things. Madame gave the pirate a narrow look that was softened somewhat by the slight smirk that curved her lips. As the group proceeded to set the table, it was obvious to the others that Alphonse was nothing less than smitten, his eye roving with relish over the ample form of his new associate as they worked. Sitting down at the head of the table, Jack exclaimed, delightedly, "Not even mid-morning and we've been rescued from a dire fate, defeated a French ship o' the line, and are sitting down to a splendid breakfast! Anatole, Madame: you've surpassed my expectations here."

Anatole said, "Merci, mon Capitaine. The so excellent Madame Guerinot has a way with an egg that is nothing short of miraculous."

Madame nearly simpered. "Anatole, you are too kind."

All the French expatriates took their leave, presently, Anatole and Louise repairing to their galley, and Alphonse and Amelie to view the quarters Jack had indicated would be allotted to the ladies. However, the diners were soon joined by Lady Margaret, Norrington, and Gibbs.

Margaret said, "We've left Owens to watch over Charles for a little while."

"The boys are quite well," Norrington added. "Gibbs had no trouble with the arm, after Charles was induced to take a dose of laudanum. He'll be sleeping most of the day, and just as well after what he's been through. Owens, too, although he, too, seems to be made of resilient stuff. We left him with a plate of Anatole's pastries and a mug of watered wine. Hopefully he will take a long nap when he is finished with them."

"They're fine little lads, the both of 'em," said Gibbs. "But look at this spread! We'll all be fat as Tortuga pigs if we don't watch ourselves. All except Lady Harry, that is: are ye able to eat anything, Ma'am?"

Harry, who had been surreptitiously biting her lip against the discomfort of another contraction, sighed with relief as it eased and shook her head. "No, I am not at all hungry."

Margaret said, "Oh, Harry, we will soon be finished and clear this away. But you should drink enough water, you know, with perhaps a little rum or brandy to sweeten it. Or the water should be boiled if you do not care to take spirits."

"Boiled? What an odd notion!" said Elizabeth. "You might just as well have tea."

"I think perhaps I could take a little tea," Harry said, brightening. "Jack, will you send for some?"

"I'll go," said Will, who had finished his repast. "I'll watch that the sails are kept trim, too."

"Good," said Jack, "I'll be stayin' with Harry. If she wants me."

"Oh, Jack, of course I want you," she said, leaning against him gratefully.

"We'll reach Barbados in record time, Mrs. Sparrow. Don't you worry." He kissed the top of her head.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Jack was right about getting there in record time. After the breakfast things were cleared away, he spent the day pacing the cabin with Harry, suffering with her as she gripped his hands through pains that slowly grew stronger and closer together as the day progressed, and occasionally running up to double check the sails. No one knew the _Black Pearl_ like its Captain, but between Will, Norrington, and Gibbs there was little Jack could do to improve matters. He felt even more helpless below decks, but as long as Harry wanted him there he was determined to stay, though by the time Barbados was sighted in the late afternoon his anxiety over her discomfort had reached a fever pitch. Harry, who by now was laying down much of the time, almost wished he would go on deck a little more, for she was having difficulty stifling the groans and cries that she knew would only distress him further.

"Jack," said Margaret at last, as gently as she could, "Don't you need to be at the wheel as we come into port? Elizabeth, and Amelie, and I can take care of Harry. It will be some time yet, I think."

"Oh, aye. I suppose I should. Will ye be all right, sweet?"

"Yes, I think so," said Harry, and smiled as he gave her a quick kiss and took his leave. "Oh, thank God!" she said, relaxing. Margaret wiped her brow with a cool cloth. "I love him so very dearly, but indeed I don't think I can quite keep silent much longer."

"No, likely not," said Margaret. "But you must not worry about him, Harry: it is one of the few times in a woman's life when she must put herself, and her baby, first."

But Harry said, "I can't help worrying about him, Maggie," and made a valiant effort to contain herself.

As they pulled into the harbor at Bridgetown the sun was sinking below the horizon. Norrington said to Jack in his calm way, "I will go to the fort and tell the Naval Commander about the fleet that is building in Martinique, and fetch the British doctor. Will, Giles, and Davis will search for this Madame Joujou. I pray they have good luck in finding her."

"So do I," said Jack, grimly. "I don't think we've much time left."

To Jack's and Norrington's surprise, the _Black Pearl_ was signaled to come tie up at the town's docks. Jack, though impatient to see how his beloved was faring, nevertheless stayed at the wheel to accomplish the task in the gathering dusk. As the ship was tied off and a gangplank lowered, a pair of representatives from the fort were on hand to greet them and find out what was toward, having heard some time before that the pirate ship now carried a Letter of Marque. They were very much impressed with the ship, and addressed Jack with as much respect as they did the Commodore, both of which pleased the Captain greatly. Hearing of Harry's extremity, they commiserated with Jack, but informed him that the doctor had been called away across the island that morning. Madame Joujou, however, whom they seemed to know from both reputation and experience, lived only a few blocks from the harbor and was likely at home.

"She's the one you need, Captain," said the younger of the two officers. "She attended my own wife last year. She and her daughters are a bit startling, but they know what they're doing. In fact, I'll take you there to fetch her!"

Jack sent Will and Giles with the officer instead, and returned to the cabin, but it was less than an hour later when a knock was heard on the door and a great many people entered without further ceremony.

"Here she is, Jack!" Will said by way of introduction, holding the door open.

Three women of African descent came into the cabin. The two that were obviously Madame's daughters were tall and stately, with a smooth, dark beauty that was most impressive, and were dressed in simple white dresses of a rich, embroidered fabric. Their mother, in contrast, wore a loose robe of exotic hue and pattern. She was much shorter than her two offspring, but was seen to be a commanding figure in spite of her lack of inches, endowed with a wiry strength and smoldering glance.

Madame Joujou looked swiftly around the room, took in sight of the distressed little mother and her four anxious helpers, and fixed a baleful eye on Jack.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded.

"I'm the father!" he exclaimed, in offended surprise.

"The father!" Madame's voice held contempt. "Your work was done many months ago. You will leave now, for it is time for your wife to do hers."

And with that, she and her daughters swept across the cabin and Jack had time only to exchange a startled look with his wife before she was suddenly surrounded, effectively removing Jack from the circle of women.

Then Giles was there, taking his arm. "Come, lad, have a drink with us and let them do their work!" Jack found himself drawn out into the passageway, the cabin door closing with a slight slam behind him. Looking quite lost, he followed the rest of the men back up to the main deck.

A table with refreshments had been set up on deck under the stars, with chairs and barrels around it to sit on, and the men gathered around it, pressing a mug into Jack's hand. They began to converse with what lightheartedness they could muster, although there was an air of tension running through the whole company, and indeed the whole crew. In fact, quite a few crewmembers came to Jack over the next half hour, gently inquiring if they had leave to go ashore, most of them feeling it would be more appropriate to go to one of the many taverns in the area rather than carouse and drown their worries on the ship as they ordinarily would have done.

Jack let them go without protest. He looked quite stunned at the turn events had taken, and sat with an untouched mug in front of him, only half aware of the conversation although occasionally he would rouse himself to force a smile, or put in a word. Then the smile would fade or the banter would cease, and his thoughts would return to his cabin and the struggle for life within it.

Nothing was heard from below for what seemed a very long time but was actually only an hour or so. Then, however, there came a very distressing few minutes during which occasional faint but quite audible cries pierced the clear night air. Jack, hearing these, looked rather as if chunks were being torn from his flesh. Quite pale, he turned fearful eyes to his friends, but there was little they could do besides assuring him, with varying degrees of confidence, that Harry would be just fine. Jack finally folded his arms on the table, buried his face in them, and silently prayed. And he was not a praying man.

There was silence again. The minutes dragged by and still there was no word from below, and Jack knew then that she was dead. He sat up, staring blankly at the mug in front of him, not really caring what those around him thought, as it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. There was tense silence around the table, although Giles looked rather less worried than the others and sipped his drink in almost a relaxed manner.

And then at last there was a sound of footsteps and Elizabeth burst out of the companionway and onto the deck. "It's a boy and my Aunt is safe!" she shouted, gleefully, and, as Jack just sat there gaping, she ran to embrace her husband who had jumped up with a relieved laugh.

Amid a great deal of backslapping and congratulations, Jack was hustled up and over to the companionway. He staggered down the stairs and along the passage, and entered his cabin with some trepidation, hardly daring to believe Elizabeth's announcement.

The cabin looked quite orderly. Madame Joujou and her daughters were just finishing putting away some things in the woven container they'd brought, and Maggie was sitting on one of the carved chairs, holding a tiny blanketed bundle, and smiling. Jack, however, ignored them, and slowly crossed the room to where Harry lay in their bed, pale and still, her eyes closed.

"Harry," he said, almost in a whisper.

But she opened her eyes, then, and saw him there, and smiled, and a little color came into her cheeks. "Jack! Isn't he beautiful?" She held out her arms.

Carefully, he sat and embraced her, pressing his face against her neck and hair, quite unable to speak. Harry closed her eyes, sighing with relief and happiness, and hugged and petted him comfortingly.

He finally sat up a little and looked at her closely. "My God, Harry, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes. Madame said it was an easy birth, though it did not seem so to me! I am sorry I cried out so. I knew that would upset you, but I was not quite myself for a few minutes, at the last."

"Harry, for God's sake!" Jack tried to find words to express what he felt at this evidence of heroism and could only come up with, "I love you."

Her eyes shining with happiness and unshed tears, she caressed the dear face. "I love you, too. Oh, Jack, isn't he just darling?"

"Who?"

Harry's brows twitched together. "Who? Why our son, of course!"

Lady Margaret, who had quietly come over to the bedside with her small burden, said "He has not yet seen him, Harry," and chuckled at her friend's indignation.

Jack, looking apologetic, disengaged himself from Harry's embrace and stood up. He cleared his throat. "This is him, eh?" He nodded toward the bundle.

Maggie smiled. "Hold out your arms."

Summoning his courage, Jack obeyed, and Maggie put the bundle into them.

"Hold his head in the crook of your arm, like this."

There was a bit of repositioning, and then Jack was looking down at the face of his tiny son with what could only be described as startled disapprobation. "He's…" He broke off, and glanced at Harry, who had endured so much for this moment. She was looking at him, hopefully. He made an effort to smile. "He's lovely!"

Harry's answering smile was far more genuine. "He's perfect!" she said, with great satisfaction.

Jack looked, to reevaluate his first impression, and to his consternation the baby woke. The eyes opened, absorbed the sight of his father, and then the little mouth opened in a peculiarly imperative wail, the tiny face screwing up quite hideously.

"Got a good set o' lungs!" Jack said, glad to be able to pay a genuine compliment to Harry's achievement. He quickly handed the baby back to Maggie.

"He's just hungry!" she laughed. "Here, Harry: I shall show you what you must do."

Jack moved out of the way, and suddenly one of Madame's daughters was there with a chair for him. She smiled, her teeth very white in her beautiful face. "You will like to sit down, no?" she said.

"No. I mean, yes! Indisputably. Many thanks, Madmoiselle!"


	15. All's Well

Disclaimer: Disney's, mostly.

**  
Harry & the Pirate: Norrington's Choice**

**_  
_**

**_XV. All's Well _**

Jack emerged from below decks and strode back to the table where his friends were gathered, his face a startling mixture of shock and bemused relief.

"Gi' me that!" he said, shortly, and grabbed a bottle of St. Claire rum off the table.

The men frowned in concern. Watching the pirate's throat working as he took a long swig, James said worriedly, "Jack! She's all right, isn't she?"

Jack put the bottle down with a bit of a slam, and sat abruptly. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and eyed the assembled company, grimly. "Oh, aye. She's fine. Perfect. Couldn't be better."

"Then what's wrong? Is it the baby?" demanded Will.

"No, he's fine. Leastways…" He looked around at their concerned faces, and sighed. "They tell me _he's_ perfect, too. And he does seem to have all his parts." He lifted the bottle again, took another lengthy swig, passed it on to Giles, then lowered his voice a little. "But Maggie brings 'im over and God's teeth if he isn't the… the reddest, most wizened little scrap of a thing! An' here she's tellin' me how _beautiful_ he is—which he ain't, give you me word! I mean, if I didn't know better, I'd wonder if he were mine! Or Harry's for that matter. But anyway, I said all that was proper, what with Harry bein' right there. An' then he sets up a squawk, so Maggie shows 'er how to feed 'im—that was a pretty sight, I have to say: he's definitely my son in that respect, appreciatin' the finer things an' all. But then, once she's settled with him an' lookin' pleased as punch, she looks at me an' says, 'Oh Jack! A son! I was hoping for a boy! But darling! We must try for a girl next year!'" With a groan, Jack slumped forward and smacked his forehead against the table a few times. "She's going to bloody kill me! There's no doubt of it. I _can't_ go through this again!"

His friends laughed, and patted him on the back, consolingly.

"Here, lad," said Giles, handing back the rum bottle when he looked up. "Have another nip, and we'll say a toast! To Lady Harry and Young Sparrow, and to great adventures of all kinds!"

Jack groaned a bit, but accepted the bottle and raised it in a weary salute.

----------------------------

Madame Joujou and her daughters had taken their leave, saying they would return for their payment and to check on the new mother in the morning. Maggie emerged from below some time later, and came over to the group. She exchanged a humorous look with James, before laying a hand on Jack's shoulder. He looked up at her, a little blearily, and she said, gently scolding, "Come now, Jack! It's all over now, and Harry and your little one are doing so well! It would be a shame if the father were to succumb to a drunken stupor now!"

"Succumb! I assure you, ma'am, I ain't near that point. Takes a sight more'n a half a bottle to lay out ol' Jack, believe me."

Maggie eyed him skeptically. "When was the last time you ate?"

He looked briefly nonplussed. "Ate?"

She nodded, and, removing the mostly empty bottle from his slackened grip, said, "I thought so! No more of this for you 'til you've had some dinner. Owens! As you love him, go fetch your Captain some hot stew and some of the good bread Anatole and Louise have made!"

"Aye, ma'am!" said Owens, and got up.

"I'll go with you, boy," Giles said. "We'll bring up a tray and all have a bite!"

As the two departed on their errand, Jack tugged at Maggie's sleeve, saying in a soft, slurred voice, "Maggie. Maggie!" He made an effort to focus on her face as she turned to him, and continued in a secretive tone, "Didn't want to say anything in front of Harry, y'know, but the baby! He's…he looks…"

She shook her head. "You will _not_ say he's not beautiful! For he is, Jack! Or will be. All new babies look like that!"

"They do?" He considered this, with some disapproval. "You're sure?"

"Well, all three of mine did!" she assured him, smiling.

"Did they?" Jack looked somewhat relieved at this. "Well, yours're quite pretty, for nippers."

"Yes!" she laughed. "And Young Sparrow will be even prettier: look who he has for parents!"

Jack frowned. "Harry might be pretty, but I'll be damned…uh…_s-scuppered_ if I am!"

Maggie nodded. "Beautiful, then!" she amended, twinkling.

"Tha's right! No. Devil take it! I mean… " Jack scowled at her.

She and the others chucked at his confusion. Taking pity on him, she said, "Handsome as the day is long, Jack Sparrow. As your son will be!"

He nodded, but then looked at her suspiciously. "You're sure, now?"

She set her hand on his shoulder firmly. "On my honor as a lady, Captain!"

Jack nodded. "Well, all right, then."

"I must go visit my poor little son, now, and tell him the news, if he is awake! Will! Gibbs! I rely on you to see that Jack eats a little, and then he must go back to Harry, for she was asking for him."

"Askin' for me!" he exclaimed, and started up.

Norrington had got up, and both he and Maggie put restraining hands on Jack's shoulders. He settled with a thump.

"Have some dinner first!" ordered Maggie.

"Soak up some of that liquor," recommended the Commodore, with a smile.

"Oh, very well," Jack grumbled. "S'pose yer right."

"We are," said the Commodore.

Gibbs said, "No need to worry. Will an' I'll take care of 'im, won't we lad?"

"Of course," said Will, smiling. "What are nephews for?"

Jack gazed fondly at Will, and said, with sodden sentiment, "Me nevvie! Good lad!" He glanced up at Norrington. "Saved me life once, y'know!"

Norrington's brows arched a bit, but he managed to say, with admirable gravity, "I know, Jack. I was there."

Jack frowned, head swaying, but then his countenance cleared as he remembered. This feat accomplished, he said, with every evidence of pleasure, "Oh. Aye! So you were!"

Norrington couldn't restrain himself from laughing.

-----------------------

James followed Maggie down to the little cabin where Charles lay. They went in quietly, and were glad they did, for the boy was still asleep. He looked very small and helpless lying there in the outsized nightshirt loaned to him by Jack. Maggie went to the bunk and stood beside it, looking down, worry and love in her eyes. She turned to James as he closed the door.

"You think he'll be all right?" she asked, needing his reassurance.

James nodded, a little crooked smile on his lips. "The break was a clean one, and Gibbs seemed to know what he was doing. Charles certainly showed his mettle these last few days. He's a fine lad, Maggie."

She nodded. "I know." Suddenly, she felt completely and inexpressibly weary, the events of the day—of the last few days!—finally having taken their toll. Tears filled her eyes, and she started to turn her face from James. And then, her heart gave an odd thump as he came to her, and took her in his arms. She looked into his face, and was almost overcome by the tenderness written there.

"Don't cry _now_, sweetheart!" he murmured, and kissed her.

As she responded, his gentleness built to passion and she slid her arms around his neck. His embrace strengthened, and he hugged her as though he would never let her go.

He did end the kiss, finally, however, and looked down at her. She blinked up at him, tears on her cheeks, wonder in her eyes.

"I love you, Maggie," he said, simply. "Will you marry me?"

She choked slightly, trembling, then blurted, "James! Yes! With all my heart!" And kissed him again, thrilling at his obvious joy. Maggie thought, _This is the way it should be! The way it was meant to be. Just as Harry said._ And when this second kiss ended, she said to him, "I love you, too, James. I think I always did."

He shook his head. "We were different people then, my darling. It wasn't the same."

"No," she agreed. "It wasn't."

They stood there for a long time, in the faint light of the cabin, just holding each other and rejoicing in the completeness of this moment. Of this finding of themselves.

And then, at last there was a sound of stirring.

"Mama!"

James released her with a smile, and Maggie turned to her son, going to him and sitting carefully on the edge of the bunk. "You're awake!" she said happily.

Charles looked at her, a little hazily but discerningly too, for her face was quite transformed. He glanced at the smiling Commodore, and then back at his mother again. "Are you….you and the Commodore…"

Maggie nodded. "What do you think of that, my son?"

The boy slowly took in the implications, and he then held up his hand. The Commodore came to him, going down on one knee to take his hand. "You'll be my father, then?" Charles said, wonderingly.

"And you'll be my son," said James.

Simple words. But Maggie's eyes overflowed again, and she put her arms around these two, who were so dear to her, and held them close for as long as she could.

-----------------------------

It was quite a while later when James and Maggie made their way across the moonlit deck of the _Black Pearl_. There were friendly nods from the few crewmen on watch, but nearly everyone else had apparently gone off to bed. The betrothed pair, though weary in body, were buoyed up on a cloud of peaceful elation, and, anxious to share their happiness, they made their way down to the Captain's Cabin.

Maggie opened the door and peeked in, without knocking. There was a branch of candles burning, on a table well away from the bed, and the drapes over the banks of windows were open, letting in the moonlight. As they entered, Elizabeth rose from the chair where she sat, holding the small blanketed bundle in her arms.

Maggie and James came over to her, smiling. Maggie said, "Let me see the little Sparrow!" and Elizabeth carefully let her take the baby. Maggie turned to James, and held the sleeping mite so that his little face was touched by moonlight. "You see! He _is_ beautiful!"

James's lips twisted and his eyes were full of laughter, thinking of Jack's dismay over his son's appearance. "Whatever you say, my love!" he murmured, and exchanged a grin with his betrothed.

Elizabeth looked from one to the other, and gasped a bit. She said, in an excited whisper, "James! Maggie! You are not…?"

They turned to her, smiling, and Maggie nodded, and said, "We are!"

Elizabeth's hands went first to her cheeks, and then to grip each of them by an arm. "Oh! I can't tell you how happy I am for both of you!"

Norrington looked down at the beautiful young woman. The woman he'd once thought he loved enough to take to wife, though he had known in his heart she would never truly be his. He still loved her, he realized. But it had never been in the way he loved Maggie. What a disservice to them both, if things had not worked out as they had! How strange life was…was _fate_! He said to her, "Thank you, Elizabeth." And his smile was a reflection of hers, one of warmth and of friendship.

Maggie smiled too, at both of them. But then she asked James, "Would you like to hold him?" and laughed softly at his startled expression.

"_The baby?_" But James took him, awkwardly, when Maggie held out the little thing, and a look of wonder came over his countenance. The wonder changed abruptly to alarm, however, when the baby opened his eyes and blinked up at the Commodore. The two looked at each other for a long moment, but then Young Sparrow's eyelids drooped and closed again, much to the relief of his father's friend. "Here! You had better take him!" said James to Elizabeth, and both she and Maggie chuckled quietly as she took the baby once more.

"We wanted to tell Harry that her plans have come to fruition!" Maggie said. "But I take it she is sleeping."

Elizabeth nodded. "Since Jack came down. But I know they wouldn't mind being awakened for such a reason as that!"

Maggie and James went quietly over to the bed at the other side of the cabin. As their eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, they could make out the two forms, tucked neatly in, laying amid the banks of pillows, sound asleep in each others' arms. Maggie took her beloved's hand, and for a long moment the two of them studied the faces of their friends, tired and peaceful, and utterly content.

They forbore to wake them.

**_  
_**

**_  
Finis _**


End file.
